Some time has passed? He holds it in recollection. Time is upon us? He uses it. Time is to come? This he anticipates. The combining of all times into one makes his life long. But for those who forget the past, disregard the present, and fear for the future, life is very brief and very troubled. When they reach the end of it, they realize too late, poor wretches, that they’ve been busied for so long in doing nothing.
The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.
Death is the wish of some, the relief of many, and the end of all.
Life’s like a play: it’s not the length, but the excellence of the acting that matters.