İnsan yaşamı kadının göğüsünden doğar, Onun dudaklarından öğrenirsiniz söylediğiniz ilk küçük sözcükleri, İlk gözyaşınızı da silen odur; Son saatinde… - Lord Byron

My time has been passed viciously and agreeably — at thirty-one so few years months days hours or minutes remain that 'Carpe diem' is not enough — I have been obliged to crop even the seconds — for who can trust to tomorrow?

[Lines inscribed Upon a Cup Formed from a Skull]

Quaff while thou canst: another race,
When thou and thine, like me, are sped,
May rescue thee from earth's embrace,
And rhyme and revel with the dead.

Why not? since through life's little day
Our heads such sad effects produce;
Redeem'd from worms and wasting clay,
This chance is theirs, to be of use.

Titan! to whom immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise; What was thy pity's recompense? A silent suffering, and intense; The rock, the vulture, and the chain, All that the proud can feel of pain, The agony they do not show, The suffocating sense of woe, Which speaks but in its loneliness, And then is jealous lest the sky Should have a listener, nor will sigh Until its voice is echoless.