Fate is the same for the man who holds back, the same if he fights hard. We are all held in a single honor, the brave with the weaklings. A man dies still if he has done nothing, as the one who has done much.

Who love too much, hate in the like extreme.

From his tongue flowed speech sweeter than honey.

We cannot all hope to combine the pleasing qualities of good looks, brains, and eloquence.

I don't know how much longer I can complain.

Among all men on the earth bards have a share of honor and reverence, because the muse has taught them songs and loves the race of bards.

Go on with a spirit that fears nothing.