佚名/Anonymous
I will live this day as if it is my last. And what shall I do with this last precious day which remains in my keeping?First, I will seal up its container of life so that not one drop spills itself upon the sand. I will waste not a moment mourning yesterday's misfortunes, yesterday's defeats, yesterday's aches of the heart, for why should I throw good after bad?
Can sand fow upward in the hour glass?Will the sun rise where it sets and set where it rises?Can I relive the errors of yesterday and right them?Can I call back yesterday's wounds and make them whole?Can I become younger than yesterday?Can I take back the evil that was spoken, the blows that were struck, the pain that was caused?No. Yesterday is buried forever and I will think of it no more.
And what then shall I do?Forgetting yesterday neither will I think of tomorrow. Why should I throw note after maybe?Cantomorrow's sand flow through the glass before today's?Will the sun rise twice this morning?Can I perform tomorrow's deeds while standing in today's path?Can I place tomorrow's gold in today's purse?Can tomorrow's child be born today?Can tomorrow's death cast its shadow backward and darken today's joy?No!Tomorrow lies buried with yesterday, and I will think of it no more.
I will live this day as if it is my last. This day is all I have and these hours are now my eternity. I greet this sunrise with cries of joy as a prisoner who is reprieved from death. I lift my arms while.consider all who greeted yesterday's sunrise who are no longer with the living today. I am indeed a fortunate man and today's hours are but a bonus, undeserved. Why have I been allowed to live this extra day when others, far better than I, have departed?Is it that they have accomplished their purpose while mine is yet to be achieved?Is this another opportunity for me to become the man I know I can be?
I have but one life and life is naught but a measurement of time. If I waste today I destroy the last page of my life. Therefore, each hour of this day will I cherish for it can never return. It cannot be banked today to be withdrawn on the morrow, for who can trap the wind?Each minute of this day will I grasp with both hands and fondle with love for its value is beyond price. What dying man can purchase another breath though he willingly give all his gold?What price dare I place on the hours ahead?I will make them priceless!