By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent, and what to those we give, to Jove is lent.

His descent was like nightfall.

A sympathetic friend can be quite as dear as a brother.

So, the gods don't hand out all their gifts at once, not build and brains and flowing speech to all. One man may fail to impress us with his looks but a god can crown his words with beauty, charm, and men look on with delight when he speaks out. Never faltering, filled with winning self-control, he shines forth at assembly grounds and people gaze at him like a god when he walks through the streets. Another man may look like a deathless one on high but there's not a bit of grace to crown his words. Just like you, my fine, handsome friend.

Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

Miserable mortals who like leaves at one moment flame with life eating the produce of the land and at another moment weakly perish.

Noblest minds are easiest bent.