Not treasured wealth, nor the consul's lictor, can dispel the mind's bitter conflicts and the cares that flit, like bats, about your fretted roofs.

The snow has at last melted, the fields regain their herbage, and the trees their leaves.

Years, following years, steal something every day; At last they steal us from ourselves away.

In labouring to be brief, I become obscure.

A good and faithful judge ever prefers the honorable to the expedient.

I shall strike the stars with my uplifted head.

It is right for him who asks forgiveness for his offenses to grant it to others.