There is a great poem by Robert Frost about this issue. Unfortunately, I read it in translation and only have a translation from a translation. So it would suck against the original. Yet here it is...

ROBERT FROST

That witch that came to wash the floor
With the mop, tucking the hem,
You would not have considered Avisagoy, the
movie star of the past years
But fame so impervious track,
That there is no doubt in the similarity there.
Die, while young, crook.
And you'll heal, so look -
In brocade and gold die!
Get rich, or sit on the throne,
But in old age be lifted,
So as not to scare yourself with crows.
Who won defeated in the struggle,
Who is just loyal to yourself,
Perhaps you will succeed ... You should
have been good before,
Yes, the sense of it is not worth a penny,
When the trembling of death will come.
Prepare the coffin among the silks!
Let a friend
buy love, All is better tak.Hotov! Prepare!