The foolish are like ripples on water, For whatsoever they do is quickly effaced; But the righteous are like carvings upon stone, For their smallest act is durable.
Poets are never allowed to be mediocre by the gods, by men or by publishers.
Who then is free? The one who wisely is lord of themselves, who neither poverty, death or captivity terrify, who is strong to resist his appetites and shun honors, and is complete in themselves smooth and round like a globe.
Believe it, future generations.
I shall strike the stars with my unlifted head.
The Cadiz tribe, not used to bearing our yoke.
The things, that are repeated again and again, are pleasant.
The mad is either insane or he is composing verses.
Jokes aside, let us turn to serious matters.
From the egg to the apple.
One Sallow does not make Summer.
Limbs of a dismembered poet.
Nothing is too high for the daring of mortals: we storm heaven itself in our folly.
Let Apella the Jew believe it.
A pauper in the midst of wealth.
If it is well with your belly, chest and feet – the wealth of kings can’t give you more.
If you know anything better than this candidly impart it; if not, use this with me.
One cannot know everything.
To know all things is not permitted.
Drop the question of what tomorrow may bring, and count as profit every day that Fate allows you.