The mountains are in labour, the birth will be an absurd little mouse.
What does drunkenness not accomplish? It unlocks secrets, confirms our hopes, urges the indolent into battle, lifts the burden from anxious minds, teaches new arts.
The good refrain from sin from the pure love of virtue.
Tis pleasant to have a large heap to take from.
Poetry is like painting: one piece takes your fancy if you stand close to it, another if you keep at some distance.
While I am sane I shall compare nothing to the joy of a friend.