“How strange a Chequer Work of Providence is the Life of Man! and by what secret differing Springs are the Affections hurry'd about as differing Circumstances present! To Day we love what to Morrow we hate; to Day we seek what to Morrow we shun; to Day we desire what to Morrow we fear; nay even tremble at the Apprehensions of;”

“And by what secret differing springs are the affections hurried about, as differing circumstances present! To-day we love what to-morrow we hate- to-day we seek what to-morrow we shun- to-day we desire what tomorrow we fear, nay, even tremble at the apprehensions of.”

“Today we love what tomorrow we hate,today we seek what tomorrow we shun,today we desire what tomorrow we fear,nay, even tremble at the apprehensions of.”

“To-morrow I will begin," thought Katy, as she dropped asleep that night. How often we all do so! And what a pity it is that when morning comes and to-morrow is to-day, we so frequently wake up feeling quite differently; careless or impatient, and not a bit inclined to do the fine things we planned overnight.”

“For this day only is ours, we are dead to yesterday, and we are not yet born to the morrow.”

“When I consider Life, 'tis all a cheat;Yet, fooled with hope, men favour the deceit;Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay:To-morrow's falser than the former day;Lies worse; and while it says, we shall be blestWith some new joys, cuts off what we possesst.”