Calumny ever pursues the great, even as the winds hurl themselves on high places.
Twice does he live who can enjoy the remembrance of the past.
I cannot keep track of all the vagaries of fashion, Every day, so it seems, brings in a different style.
There is nothing constant in the universe. All ebb and flow, and every shape that's born, bears in its womb the seeds of change.
If God be my friend, I cannot be wretched.
Grief brims itself and flows away in tears.