We are deceived by the appearance of right.

Friends fly away when the cask has been drained to the dregs.

Mingle some brief folly with wisdom now: To be foolish is sweet at times.

There is a fault common to all singers. When they're among friends and are asked to sing they don't want to, and when they're not asked to sing they never stop.

Anger is short-lived madness.

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

A picture is a poem without words