Death's dark way Must needs be trodden once, however we pause.

Sweet and glorious it is to die for our country.

Whither, O god of wine, art thou hurrying me, whilst under thy all-powerful influence?

It was a wine jar when the molding began: as the wheel runs round why does it turn out a water pitcher?

Patience makes lighter / What sorrow may not heal. ("sed levius fit patientia quidquid corrigere est nefas")

Even the worthy Homer sometimes nods.

Gloriously false. [Like Rahab.]