There is a middle ground in things.

Let him who has once perceived how much that, which has been discarded, excels that which he has longed for, return at once, and seek again that which he despised.

That man lives happy and in command of himself, who from day to day can say I have lived. Whether clouds obscure, or the sun illumines the following day, that which is past is beyond recall.

Never despair while under the guidance and auspices of Teucer.

How slight and insignificant is the thing which casts down or restores a mind greedy for praise.

A word, once sent abroad, flies irrevocably.

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.