"Painters and poets," you say, "have always had an equal license in bold invention." We know; we claim the liberty for ourselves and in turn we give it to others.

Believe that each day that shines on you is your last.

What prevents a man's speaking good sense with a smile on his face?

No poems can please long or live that are written by water drinkers.

Who then is sane? He who is not a fool.

Mighty to inspire new hopes, and able to drown the bitterness of cares.

Alas, Postumus, the fleeting years slip by, nor will piety give any stay to wrinkles and pressing old age and untamable death.