Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that's how a book of poems is made, my Friend.

A good man enlarges the term of his own existence.

Be cheerful, if you are wise.

It is folly to waste labour about trifles.

I would not miss your face, your neck, your hands, your limbs, your bosom and certain other of your charms. Indeed, not to become boring by naming them all, I could do without you, Chloe, altogether.

You give me nothing during your life, but you promise to provide for me at your death. If you are not a fool, you know what I wish for!

Hidden evils are most dreaded.