How can life be worth living, if devoid Of the calm trust reposed by friend in friend? What sweeter joy than in the kindred soul, Whose converse differs not from self-communion?
The ape, vilest of beasts, how like to us.
Let no one pay me honor with tears, nor celebrate my funeral rites with weeping.
To open his lips is crime in a plain citizen.
He hath freedom whoso beareth a clean and constant heart within.
Here is he laid to whom for daring deed, nor friend nor foe could render worthy meed.