Fortune makes a fool of those she favors too much.

When I labor to be brief, I become obscure.

Clogged with yesterday's excess, the body drags the mind down with it.

While we talk hostile, time flies away.

Don't think, just do.

Begin, be bold and venture to be wise.

Choose a subject equal to your abilities; think carefully what your shoulders may refuse, and what they are capable of bearing.

Cease to ask what the morrow will bring forth. And set down as gain each day that Fortune grants.

Every old poem is sacred.

He gains everyone's approval who mixes the pleasant with the useful.