As poetry is the harmony of words, so music is that of notes.
Successful crimes alone are justified.
An ugly woman in a rich habit set out with jewels nothing can become.
Griefs assured are felt before they come.
Let Fortune empty her whole quiver on me, I have a soul that, like an ample shield, Can take in all, and verge enough for more; Fate was not mine, nor am I Fate's: Souls know no conquerors.
Kings fight for empires, madmen for applause.