It is not permitted that we should know everything.
Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy my remaining days, if Heaven grant any to remain.
In the same [hospitable] manner that a Calabrian would press you to eat his pears.
Whither, O god of wine, art thou hurrying me, whilst under thy all-powerful influence?
I court not the votes of the fickle mob.
What has this unfeeling age of ours left untried, what wickedness has it shunned?