Love lives on hope, and dies when hope is dead; It is a flame which sinks for lack of fuel.
As for our gods, we have a few too many to be true.
He who forgives readily only invites offense.
He should be envied Who when his strength is spent lays down his life. Old age reserves a melancholy fate For noble souls before their life is done.
Each instant of life is a step toward death.
I would not like a king who could obey.