Oh death, death, why do you never come to me thus summoned always day by day?

For the wretched one night is like a thousand; for someone faring well death is just one more night.

Fortune cannot aid those who do nothing.

To err is common to all mankind, but having erred he is no longer reckless nor unblest who haven fallen into evil seeks a cure, nor remains unmoved.

For this I see, that we, all we that live, Are but vain shadows, unsubstantial dreams.

When you can prove me wrong, then call me blind.

A man growing old becomes a child again.