The moving light, rejoicing in its strength, Sped from the pyre of pine, and urged its way, In golden glory, like some strange new sun.

Rumours voiced by women come to nothing.

Time cleanses what it touches over time.

Delay not to seize the hour!

Words are the physicians of a mind diseased.

And one who is just of his own free will shall not lack for happiness; and he will never come to utter ruin.

Art is far feebler than necessity.