I am dragged along by a strange new force. Desire and reason are pulling in different directions. I see the right way and approve it, but follow the wrong.
I am the poet of the poor, because I was poor when I loved; since I could not give gifts, I gave words.
That you may be beloved, be amiable.
There is no useful thing which may not be turned to an injurious purpose.
Fools laugh at the Latin language. -Rident stolidi verba Latina
Everything changes, nothing is lost.