Rains driven by storms fall not perpetually on the land already sodden, neither do varying gales for ever disturb the Caspian sea.
Pale death approaches with equal step, and knocks indiscriminately at the door of teh cottage, and the portals of the palace.
I shall not wholly die, and a great part of me will escape the grave.
Adversity is wont to reveal genius, prosperity to hide it.
You must avoid sloth, that wicked siren.
No poem was ever written by a drinker of water.