Happy the man, and happy he alone,
He who can call to-day his own:
He who, secure within, can say:
"To-morrow do thy worst, for I have liv'd to-day."

‑ Horace, Odes, III, 29 (Dryden trans.)


Tomorrow will I live, the fool does say;
Today itself's too late; the wise lived yesterday.

‑ Martial, Epigrams, (Cowley trans.)


Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust unto Dust, and under Dust to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and - sans End!

‑ Omar Khayyam, Rubaiyat (FitzGerald trans.)


A little pain, a little pleasure,
A little heaping up of treasure;
Then no more gazing upon the sun.
All things must end that have begun.

‑ John Payne, Kyrelle


Life like a dome of many-coloured glass
Stains the white radiance of Eternity.

‑ Shelley, Adonais