Virtue is a kind of health, beauty and good habit of the soul.

So the well educated man can learn to sing and dance well.

There is yet something remaining for the dead, and some far better thing for the good than for the evil.

As a breath of wind or some echo rebounds from smooth, hard surfaces and returns to the source from which it issued, so the stream of beauty passes back into its possessor through his eyes, which is its natural route to the soul; arriving there and setting him all aflutter, it waters the passages of the feathers and causes the wings to grow, and fills the soul of the loved one in his turn with love.

Everything changes and nothing remains still.

The gods created certain kinds of beings to replenish our bodies... they are the trees and the plants and the seeds.

For a poet is an airy thing, winged and holy, and he is not able to make poetry until he becomes inspired and goes out of his mind and his intellect is no longer in him.