I feel again a spark of that ancient flame.
In youth alone, unhappy mortals live; But, ah! the mighty bliss is fugitive: Discolour'd sickness, anxious labour, come, And age, and death's inexorable doom.
Each person, makes their own terrible passion their God.
She nourishes the poison in her veins and is consumed by a secret fire.
Even virtue is fairer in a fair body.
Happy the man who has been able to learn the causes of things.