Yield not to evils, but attack all the more boldly.
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.
Their rage supplies them with weapons.
Go forth a conqueror and win great victories.
No day shall erase you from the memory of time
What each man feared would happen to himself, did not trouble him when he saw that it would ruin another.