Kings play the fool, and the people suffer for it.

In my youth I thought of writing a satire on mankind! but now in my age I think I should write an apology for them.

Who then is free? The one who wisely is lord of themselves, who neither poverty, death or captivity terrify, who is strong to resist his appetites and shun honors, and is complete in themselves smooth and round like a globe

Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.

The muse does not allow the praise-de-serving here to die: she enthrones him in the heavens.

It is sweet to let the mind unbend on occasion.

From the egg to the apple.