Beauty is fading, nor is fortune stable; sooner or later death comes to all.

There is something beyond the grave; death does not end all, and the pale ghost escapes from the vanquished pyre.

Make room, Roman writers, make room for Greek writers; something greater than the Iliad is born.

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.

Great is the height I just scale, but the prospect of glory gives me strength.

Something greater than the Iliad now springs to birth -Nescio quid maius nascitur Iliade

That death is best which comes appropriately at a ripe age.