To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.
SHAKS.: _Macbeth,_ Act v., Sc. 5.
Defer not till to-morrow to be wise,
To-morrow's sun on thee may never rise.
CONGREVE: _Letter to Cobham._
To-morrow comes and we are where?
Then let us live to-day.
SCHILLER: _The Victory Feast,_ St. 13.
Where art thou, beloved To-morrow?
Whom young and old, and strong and weak,
Rich and poor, through joy and sorrow,
Thy sweet smiles we ever seek--
In thy place--ah! well-a-day!
We find the thing we fled--To-day.