Dispel the cold, bounteously replenishing the hearth with logs.
What do sad complaints avail if the offense is not cut down by punishment.
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.
He paints a dolphin in the woods, a boar in the waves.
Alas! the fleeting years, how they roll on!
Humble things become the humble.