A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.
The race by vigour, not by vaunts, is won.
Our passions are like convulsion fits, which, though they make us stronger for a time, leave us the weaker ever after.
And write about it, Goddess, and about it!
Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate.
Sure of their qualities and demanding praise, more go to ruined fortunes than are raised.