Though Rome's gross yoke Drops off, no more to be endured, Her teaching is not so obscured By errors and perversities, That no truth shines athwart the lies.
Days decrease, / And autumn grows, autumn in everything.
Escape me? Never, beloved! While I am I, and you are you.
There is nothing so unpardonable as to consent to a senseless, aimless, purposeless life.
Truth is within ourselves.
Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!