Like leaves on trees the race of man is found,- Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies: They fall successive, and successive rise.

I guess some people never change... Or, they quickly change and then quickly change back.

I war not with the dead.

In youth and beauty, wisdom is but rare!

down from his brow she ran his curls like thick hyacinth clusters full of blooms

And here I am using my own lungs like a sucker.

There is not any advantage to be won from grim lamentation.