Don't long for the unripe grape.
If you wish me to weep, you yourself must first feel grief.
At Rome I love Tibur; then, like a weathercock, at Tibur Rome.
Lighten grief with hopes of a brighter morrow; Temper joy, in fear of a change of fortune.
It is sweet to let the mind unbend on occasion.
Having no business of his own to attend to, he busies himself with the affairs of others.