At thirty, man suspects himself a fool,
Knows it at forty, & reforms his plan;
At fifty, chides his infamous delay,
Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve,
In all the magnanimity of thought;
Resolves, & re-resolves, then dies the same.
And why? because he thinks himself immortal,
All men think all men mortal but themselves.
- Edward Young,
Night Thoughts
King of the Birds, Lord of the Skies
Gather ye rose buds while ye may, old time is still a flying;
and this same rose that you see today, tomorrow will be dying.
CarpeDiem: Seize the Day!
- Dead Poets Society
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