It is an undoubted truth that the less one has to do the less time one finds to do it in. One yawns, one procrastinates, one can do it when one will, and, therefore, one seldom does it at all; whereas, those who have a great deal of business must buckle to it; and then

By the streets of “by and by,” one arrives at the house of “never.”

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.

Procrastination is the thief of time: Year after year it steals, till all are fled, And to the mercies of a moment leaves The vast concerns of an eternal scene.

There is, by God’s grace, an immeasurable distance between late and too late.

Where duty is plain delay is both foolish and hazardous; where it is not, delay may be both wisdom and safety.

The man who procrastinates struggles with ruin.

Procrastination brings loss, delay danger.

In delay we waste our lights in vain; like lamps by day.

The procrastinator is not only indolent and weak but commonly false too; most of the weak are false.