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The clock of life is wound but once


and no one has the power


to tell just when the hand may stop,


at late or early hour.



To lose one's wealth is sad indeed,


to lose one's health is more.


To lose one's soul is such a loss,


as no one can restore.



The present only is our own


live, love, toil with a will.


Place no faith in tomorrow,


for the clock may then be still.



Author Unknown


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