If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.
Art can do much, but this maxim's most sure/A weak or wounded brain admits no cure.
If we had not winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.
The world no longer lets me love, My hope and treasure are above.
Let Greeks be Greeks, and women what they are.
The stones and trees, insensible to time, / Nor age nor wrinkle on their front are seen; / If Winter come, and greenness then do fade / A Spring returns, and they more youthful made; / But man grows old, lies down, remains where once he's laid.