Dreams are sent by God.
A small rock holds back a great wave.
One rogue leads another.
Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.
The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame.
There is a fullness of all things, even of sleep and love.