Horace (Quintus Horatius Flaccus) - Odes 1.11 lyrics

You should not ask, it is wrong to know, what end the gods will have given to me or to you, O Leuconoe, and do not try Babylonian calculations. How much better it is to endure whatever will be, whether Jupiter has allotted more winters or the last, which now weakens the Tyrrhenian Sea against opposing rocks: be wise. Strain your wines, and because of brief life cut short long-term hopes. While we are speaking, envious life will have fled: seize the day, trusting the future as little as possible.