Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.
A decent boldness ever meets with friends.
...if fifty bands of men surrounded us/ and every sword sang for your blood,/ you could make off still with their cows and sheep.
Is he not sacred, even to the gods, the wandering man who comes in weariness?
The gods give to mortals not everything at the same time.
Reproach is infinite, and knows no end So voluble a weapon is the tongue; Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail For every man has equal strength to rail.