Death is an ill; 'tis thus the Gods decide: / For had death been a boon, the Gods had died.
Builders, raise the ceiling high, Raise the dome into the sky, Hear the wedding song! For the happy groom is near, Tall as Mars, and statelier, Hear the wedding song!
I do not know what to do, my mind's in two.
Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.
Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.
To me the Muses truly gave / An envied and a happy lot: / E'en when I lie within the grave, / I cannot, shall not, be forgot.