Glory comes too late when we are nought but ashes.
Conceal a flaw, and the world will imagine the worst.
Man loves malice, but not against one-eyed men nor the unfortunate, but against the fortunate and proud.
For life is only life when blessed with health.
Genuine is the sorrow endured without anyone else knowing about it.
The bee is enclosed, and shines preserved, in a tear of the sisters of Phaeton, so that it seems enshrined in its own nectar. It has obtained a worthy reward for its great toils; we may suppose that the bee itself would have desired such a death.