He conquers who endures.

Lives there the man with soul so dead as to disown the wish to merit the people's applause, and having uttered words worthy to be kept in cedar oil to latest times, to leave behind him rhymes that dread neither herrings nor frankincense.

Check disease in its approach.

Our life is our own to-day, to-morrow you will be dust, a shade, and a tale that is told. Live mindful of death; the hour flies.

The man who wishes to bend me with his tale of woe must shed true tears - not tears that have been got ready overnight.

The belly is the giver of genius.

I know you even under the skin.