What is wealth to me if I cannot enjoy it?
What can be found equal to modesty, uncorrupt faith, the sister of justice, and undisguised truth?
It is not every man that can afford to go to Corinth.
A poem is like a painting.
In the midst of hopes and cares, of apprehensions and of disquietude, regard every day that dawns upon you as if it was to be your last; then super-added hours, to the enjoyment of which you had not looked forward, will prove an acceptable boon.
Clogged with yesterday's excess, the body drags the mind down with it.