There is no retracing our steps.
He will always be a slave who does not know how to live upon a little.
The years as they pass plunder us of one thing after another.
The miser acquires, yet fears to use his gains.
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.
Difficulties elicit talents that in more fortunate circumstances would lie dormant.