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XVI



But wherefore do not you a mightier way

Make war upon this bloody tyrant, Time?

And fortify your self in your decay

With means more blessed than my barren rhyme?

Now stand you on the top of happy hours,

And many maiden gardens, yet unset,

With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers,

Much liker than your painted counterfeit:

So should the lines of life that life repair,

Which this, Time\'s pencil, or my pupil pen,

Neither in inward worth nor outward fair,

Can make you live your self in eyes of men.

  To give away yourself, keeps yourself still,

  And you must live, drawn by your own sweet skill.

 	--William Shakespeare

This is the way the world ends: not with a bang, but a whimper.
T. S. Eliot

I will stand on, and continue to use, the figures I have used, because I
believe they are correct. Now, I\'m not going to deny that you don\'t now
and then slip up on something; no one bats a thousand.
Ronald Reagan