Brighter than Parian marble.

Remember you must die whether you sit about moping all day long or whether on feast days you stretch out in a green field, happy with a bottle of Falernian from your innermost cellar.

There is a middle ground in things.

I am doubting what to do.

God can change the lowest to the highest, abase the proud, and raise the humble.

He who studies to imitate the poet Pindar, O Julius, relies on artificial wings fastened on with wax, and is sure to give his name to a glassy sea.

As we speak cruel time is fleeing. Seize the day, believing as little as possible in tomorrow.