Death was to be my glory, but destiny has refused it.
In recounting our woes, we often soothe them.
Kindness acts Not always as you think; a hated hand Renders it odious.
I am Roman, alas, because Horace is Roman.
The greater the effort, the greater the glory.
There are secret ties, there are sympathies, by the sweet relationship of which souls that are well matched attach themselves to each other, and are affected by I know not what, which cannot be explained