For God's Sake, Let Us Sit Upon

Time Hath, My Lord, A Wallet At His Back Wherein He Puts Alms For Oblivion, A Great-sized Monster Of Ingratitudes: Those Scraps Are Good Deeds Past, Which Are Devour'd As Fast As They Are Made, Forgot As Soon As Done.

I Am Sure Care's An Enemy To Life.

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbled Shore, So Do Our Minutes Hasten To Their End; Each Changing Place With That Which Goes Before, In Sequent Toil All Forwards Do Contend.

Let Me Not Live, After My Flame Lacks Oil, To Be The Snuff Of Younger Spirits.

To Be Once In Doubt Is Once To Be Resolved.