Seest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with I yesterday's excess, weighs down the soul, and fixes to the earth this particle of the divine essence.

The Cadiz tribe, not used to bearing our yoke.

Better wilt thou live...by neither always pressing out to sea nor too closely hugging the dangerous shore in cautious fear of storms.

I shall not wholly die, and a great part of me will escape the grave.

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.

The arrow will not always find the mark intended.

Boy, I loathe Persian luxury.