From high Meonia's rocky shores I came, Of poor decsent, Acoetes is my name, My sire was measly born: no oxen ploughed, His fruitful fields, nor in his pastures lowed, His whole estate within the waters lay' With lines and hooks he caught the finny prey; His art was all his livelehood, which he Thus with his dying lips bequeathed to me: In streams, my boy, and rivers take thy chance; There swims', said he, Thy whole inheritance.

He who can simulate sanity will be sane.

Time is a stream which glides smoothly on and is past before we know.

Love, and a cough, are not concealed.

As the mind of each man is conscious of good or evil, so does he conceive within his breast hope or fear, according to his actions.

Time glides away and as we get older through the noiseless years; the days flee and are restrained by no reign.

Well has he lived who has lived well in obscurity.