Spare the person but lash the vice.
Of no day can the retrospect cause pain to a good man.
Some good, some so-so, and lots plain bad: that's how a book of poems is made, my Friend.
Glory comes too late when we are nought but ashes.
You are sad in the midst of every blessing. Take care that Fortune does not observe--or she will call you ungrateful.
While you cannot resolve what you are, at last you may be nothing.