Because there is no man who can be true and just judge of himself, so much will self-love deceive him.

Go right on and listen as thou goest.

And we came forth to contemplate the stars.

Lying in a featherbed will bring you no fame, nor staying beneath the quilt, and he who uses up his life without achieving fame leaves no more vestige of himself on Earth than smoke in the air or foam upon the water.

... Nessun maggior dolore Che ricordarsi del tempo felice Nella miseria. (There is no greater pain than to remember a happy time when one is in misery.)

The truth thy speech doth show, within my heart reproves the swelling pride.

Beauty awakens the soul to act.