Maxioms by Edward Young
Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire.
Our birth is nothing but our death begun, As tapers waste the moment they take fire.
A soul without reflection, like a pile
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
A soul without reflection, like a pile
Without inhabitant, to ruin runs.
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.
The melancholy ghosts of dead renown,
Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.
He rams his quill with scandal and with scoff,
But 'tis so very foul, it won't go off.
He rams his quill with scandal and with scoff,
But 'tis so very foul, it won't go off.
We nothing know, but what is marvellous;
Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
We nothing know, but what is marvellous;
Yet what is marvellous, we can't believe.
