Death is an ill; 'tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died.
There is no place for grief in a house which serves the Muse.
No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.
I would not think to touch the sky with two arms
Stand and face me, my love,and scatter the grace in your eyes.
I know not what to do, my mind is divided