Those who covet much suffer from the want.
It is not enough for poems to be fine; they must charm, and draw the mind of the listener at will.
Often you must turn your stylus to erase, if you hope to write anything worth a second reading.
We are free to yield to truth.
Care clings to wealth: the thirst for more Grows as our fortunes grow.
At Rome I love Tibur; then, like a weathercock, at Tibur Rome.