Some old men, continually praise the time of their youth. In fact, you would almost think that there were no fools in their days, but unluckily they themselves are left as an example.

How loved, how honored once, avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot A heap of dust alone remains of thee 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!

Act well your part, there all the honour lies.

What's fame? a fancy'd life in other's breath. A thing beyond us, even before our death.

Tis true, 'tis certain; man, though dead, retains Part of himself; the immortal mind remains.

And all who told it added something new, and all who heard it, made enlargements too.

Homer excels all the inventors of other arts in this: that he has swallowed up the honor of those who succeeded him.