It is the just decree of Heaven that a traitor never sees his danger till his ruin is at hand.
Pietro MetastasioSharp and fell remorse, the offspring of my sin! Why do you, O God, lacerate my heart so late? Why, O boding cries, that scream so close to me,--why do I listen to you now, and never heard you before?
Pietro MetastasioThe aged oak upon the steep stands more firm and secure if assailed by angry winds; for if the winter bares its head, the more strongly it strikes its roots into the ground, acquiring strength as it loses beauty.
Pietro Metastasio