Blown roses hold their sweetness to the last.
A thing well said will be wit in all languages.
Such subtle Covenants shall be made,Till Peace it self is War in Masquerade.
All empire is no more than power in trust.
If you have lived, take thankfully the past. Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last.
The thought of being nothing after death is a burden insupportable to a virtuous man.