To-morrow's sun to thee may never rise—(Congreve.)
The flower that smiles to-day, to-morrow dies—(Shelly.)
And what do we, by all our bustle gain?—(Pomfret.)
A drop of pleasure in a sea of pain.—(Tupper.)
Tired of beliefs, we dread to live without;—(Holmes.)
Yet who knows most, the more he knows to doubt.—(Daniel.)
Princes and lords are but the breath of kings.—(Burns.)
And trifles make the sum of human things.—(More.)
If troubles overtake thee, do not wail;—(Herbert.)
Our thoughts are boundless, though our frames are frail.—(Percival.)