Make room, Roman writers, make room for Greek writers; something greater than the Iliad is born.
Among absent lovers, ardor always fares better.
Let each man pass his days in that endeavor wherein his gift is greatest.
Beauty is fading, nor is fortune stable; sooner or later death comes to all.
Even if my strength should fail, my daring will win me praise: in might enterprises even the will to succeed is enough.
Let's give the historians something to write about