Laudator Temporis Acti

Augustine, Sermons 84.1 (Patrologia Latina, vol. 38, col. 519; tr. Edmund Hill):

So you love this life, do you, in which you struggle, and run around, and bustle about and gasp for breath; and you can scarcely count the things that have to be done in this wretched life: sowing, plowing, planting, sailing, grinding, cooking, weaving. And after all this, your life has got to end anyhow. Look at all the things you put up with in this wretched life you love so; and do you imagine you are going to live for ever and never die? Temples, great blocks of stone and marble, reinforced with steel and lead—yet they fall into ruin; and does mere man think he's never going to die?

Amas ergo istam vitam, ubi tantum laboras, curris, satagis, anhelas; et vix enumerantur quae necessaria sunt in misera vita; seminare, arare, novellare, navigare, molere, coquere, texere: et post haec omnia finire habes vitam. Ecce quae pateris in misera ista quam diligis vita: et putas te semper victurum, et numquam moriturum? Templa, saxa, marmora, ferro plumboque consolidata, tamen cadunt: et homo numquam se putat moriturum?

With curris, satagis cf. Petronius, Satyricon 58.9 (my translation):

You run, you're bewildered, you scurry about, like a mouse in a chamber pot.

curris, stupes, satagis, tamquam mus in matella.