At Rome I love Tibur; then, like a weathercock, at Tibur Rome.

When I struggle to be terse, I end by being obscure.

What can be found equal to modesty, uncorrupt faith, the sister of justice, and undisguised truth?

Let your character be kept up the very end, just as it began, and so be consistent.

I abhor the profane rabble and keep them at a distance.

Hidden knowledge differs little from ignorance.

Wherever the storm carries me, I go a willing guest.