Shakespeare's Sonnet 11

As fast as thou shalt wane, so fast thou grow’st,In one of thine, from that which thou departest;And that fresh blood which youngly thou bestow’st,Thou mayst call thine when thou from youth convertest,Herein lives wisdom, beauty, and increase;Without this folly, age, and cold decay:If all were minded so, the times should ceaseAnd threescore year would make the world away.Let those whom nature hath not made for store,Harsh, featureless, and rude, barrenly perish:Look, whom she best endow’d, she gave thee more;Which bounteous gift thou shouldst in bounty cherish:She carv’d thee for her seal, and meant thereby,Thou shouldst print more, not let that copy die.

As quickly as you decline, you grow again in a child of yours, carrying on what you leave behind. And the fresh blood you pass on while young can still be called yours when you have moved beyond youth. In this lie wisdom, beauty, and growth; without it come foolishness, old age, and cold decay. If everyone thought as you do, the generations would end, and sixty years would finish the world. Let those whom nature has not made to reproduce—ugly, plain, and rough—die without children. Consider those she has gifted most: she gave you even more. You should honor that generous gift by being generous with it. She carved you as her stamp, meaning you to print more copies, not let that image die.