All men owe honor to the poets - honor and awe; for they are dearest to the Muse who puts upon their lips the ways of life.
Sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids, unwakeful, most pleasant, the nearest like death.
Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
Good things don't end in -eum; they end in -mania or -teria.
Few sons are like their fathers - many are worse, few better.
Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies And sure he will for Wisdom never lies.