Alas, how right the ancient saying is: We, who are old, are nothing else but noise And shape. Like mimicries of dreams we go, And have no wits, although we think us wise.

The best prophet is common sense, our native wit.

For the good, when praised, feel something of disgust, if to excess commended.

The good and the wise lead quiet lives.

When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him.

Let a man accept his destiny, No pity and no tears.

Pray the gods do not envy your happiness!