The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world’s applause. — Edward Young
Man makes a death which Nature never made. And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one. — Edward Young
Who, for the poor renown of being smart, Would leave a sting within a brother’s heart? — Edward Young
What tender force, what dignity divine, what virtue consecrating every feature; around — Edward Young
Tomorrow is the day when idlers work, and fools reform and mortal men lay hold on heaven. — Edward Young
An angel’s arm can’t snatch me from the grave; legions of angels can’t confine me there. — Edward Young
He that’s ungrateful has no guilt but one; All other crimes may pass for virtues in him. — Edward Young
Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes; They love a train, they tread each other’s heel. — Edward Young