Such hath it been--shall be--beneath the sun The many still must labour for the one.
What should I have known or written had I been a quiet, mercantile politician or a lord in waiting? A man must travel, and turmoil, or there is no existence.
Jealousy dislikes the world to know it.
No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.
Reason is so unreasonable, that few people can say they are in possession of it.
He who grown aged in this world of woe, In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life, So that no wonder waits him.