"Who stops the flight of the hours? They rush on like the arrows of God! Every second stroke hurries us nearer to our deathbed, nearer to the iron sleep of death!No spring blooms for thee, when thou art dead; no shadow is cast, no clanging of bowls, no pleasant smiles of maidens, no jests from the lips of friends!As yet the black wings of death rustle not! Therefore seize pleasures, ere the storm carries them off, which God scatters like sunshine and rain from his urn!"
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Ludwig Christoph Heinrich Hölty
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