Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.
If one swain scorns you, you will soon find another.
The cursed hunger for gold. -Auri sacra fames
Time bears away all things.
May the countryside and the gliding valley streams content me. Lost to fame, let me love river and woodland.
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.