The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain.

There, pride, avarice, and envy are the tongues men know and heed, a Babel of depsair

Oh blind, oh ignorant, self-seeking cupidity whcih spurs as so in the short mortal life and steeps as through all eternity.

The man who lies asleep will never waken fame, and his desire and all his life drift past him like a dream, and the traces of his memory fade from time like smoke in air, or ripples on a stream.

They yearn for what they fear for.

The well heeded well heard.