Horace: Book I, Ode 13.
_'Tu ne quoesieris, scire nefas-'_
It is not right for you to know, so do not ask,
How long a life the gods may give or ever we
are gone away;
Try not to read the Final Page, the ending
Trust not the gypsy's tea-leaves, nor the
Better to have what is to come enshrouded
Than to be certain of the sort and length of
Why, even as I monologue on wisdom and
How Time has flown! Spear some of it!
The longest life is brevity.