Death's dark way Must needs be trodden once, however we pause.
Not gods, nor men, nor even booksellers have put up with poets' being second-rate.
They change their sky, not their mind, who cross the sea. A busy idleness possesses us: we seek a happy life, with ships and carriages: the object of our search is present with us.
Jokes aside, let us turn to serious matters.
Fierce eagles breed not the tender dove.
Forgetful of thy tomb thou buildest houses.