Destiny waits alike for the free man as well as for him enslaved by another's might.
Who apart from the gods is without pain for his whole lifetime's length?
I warn the marauder dragging plunder, chaotic, rich beyond all rights: he'll strike his sails, harried at long last, stunned when the squalls of torment break his spars to bits.
It is always the season for the old to learn.
Pain lays not its touch upon a corpse.
High fortune, this in man's eye is god and more than god is this.