Remember, today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.

Remember, today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.

To-morrow, didst thou say?
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow!
Go to--I will not hear it. To-morrow!
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To-morrow, didst thou say?
Methought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow!
Go to--I will not hear it. To-morrow!
'Tis a sharper--who stakes his penury
Against thy plenty--takes thy ready cash,
And pays thee naught but wishes, hopes, and promises,
The currency of idiots--injurious bankrupt,
That gulls the easy creditor!

There's a fount about to stream,
There's a light about to beam,
There's a warmth about to read more

There's a fount about to stream,
There's a light about to beam,
There's a warmth about to glow,
There's a flower about to blow;
There's a midnight blackness changing
Into gray;
Men of thought and men of action,
Clear the way.

Never do but one thing at a time, and never put off till
to-morrow what you can do today.

Never do but one thing at a time, and never put off till
to-morrow what you can do today.

Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise;
Or should to-morrow read more

Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise;
Or should to-morrow chance to cheer thy sight
With her enlivening and unlook'd for light,
How grateful will appear her dawning rays!
As favours unexpected doubly please.

Oh! to be wafted away
From this black Aceldama of sorrow,
Where the dust of an earthy read more

Oh! to be wafted away
From this black Aceldama of sorrow,
Where the dust of an earthy to-day
Makes the earth of a dusty to-morrow.

Leuconoe, close the book of fate,
For troubles are in store,
. . . .
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Leuconoe, close the book of fate,
For troubles are in store,
. . . .
Live today, tomorrow is not.

In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be
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In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my lot no less fortunate be
Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining,
And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;
With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn,
While I carol away idle sorrow,
And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn,
Look forward with hope for to-morrow.

The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.

The only limit to our realization of tomorrow will be our doubts of today.