While we're talking, envious time is fleeing: pluck the day, put no trust in the future
The same (hated) man will be loved after he's dead. How quickly we forget.
Pale death knocks with impartial foot at poor men's hovels and king's palaces.
Wealth increaseth, but a nameless something is ever wanting to our insufficient fortune.
The hour of happiness will be the more welcome, the less it was expected.
Marble statues, engraved with public inscriptions, by which the life and soul return after death to noble leaders.