Our years Glide silently away. No tears, No loving orisons repair The wrinkled cheek, the whitening hair That drop forgotten to the tomb.
5 years ago
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They change their sky, not their mind, who cross the sea. A busy idleness possesses us: we seek a happy life, with ships and carriages: the object of our search is present with us.
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He despises what he sought; and he seeks that which he lately threw away.
[Lat., Quod petit spernit, repetit quod nuper omisit.]
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Tis pleasant to have a large heap to take from.
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It is good to labor; it is also good to rest from labor.
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