Birdes of a feather will flocke togither.
To the ashes of the dead glory comes too late.
You ask what a nice girl will do? She won't give an inch, but she won't say no.
The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself the singer of its own dirge.
Life consists not merely in existing, but in enjoying health.
I have granted you much that you asked: and yet you never cease to ask of me. He who refuses nothing, Atticilla, will soon have nothing to refuse.