Avarice is a cursed vice: offer a man enough gold, and he will part with his own small hoard of food, however great his hunger.
Death is a mercy, and I have enough mercy to go around.
Wise is the person at either end. Who can in due measure spare as well as spend.
How gracious are the gods in bestowing high positions; and how reluctant are they to insure them when given.
Realize that true happiness lies within you.
The subject matter is autobiographical, it's all to do with hope and memory and sensuality and involvement, really.