Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers, free from all anxieties of gain.

Mingle a little folly with your wisdom; a little nonsense, now and then, is pleasant.

Pale death approaches with equal step, and knocks indiscriminately at the door of teh cottage, and the portals of the palace.

There are words and accents by which this grief can be assuaged, and the disease in a great measure removed.

"Painters and poets," you say, "have always had an equal license in bold invention." We know; we claim the liberty for ourselves and in turn we give it to others.

Alas, Postumus, the fleeting years slip by, nor will piety give any stay to wrinkles and pressing old age and untamable death.

Hired mourners at a funeral say and do - A little more than they whose grief is true