If we could be twice young and twice old we could correct all our mistakes.
The same man cannot well be skilled in everything; each has his special excellence.
I envy that man who passes through life safely, to the world and fame unknown.
When two souls compose a single song, The muse fans Livid wrath before long.
When good men die their goodness does not perish.
Do we, holding that the gods exist, deceive ourselves with insubstantial dreams and lies, while random careless chance and change alone control the world?