To each man at his birth nature has given some fault.
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
Beauty is fading, nor is fortune stable; sooner or later death comes to all.
Love presses my head with carefully placed feet, wretch that he is, until he has taught me to detest chaste girls, and to live with no counsel.
Do not unto another that which you would not he should do unto you.