Siqua metu dempto casta est, ea denique casta est; quae, quia non liceat, non facit, illa facit.
Wij mensen zijn dan ook gehard en tehen veel bestand, een wezenlijk bewijs van dat waaruit wij zijn geschapen.
Since you can never be my bride, My tree at least you shall be! Let the laurel Adorn, henceforth, my hair, my lyre, my quiver: Let Roman victors, in the long procession, Wear laurel wreaths for triumph and ovation.
The rest night knows, and we, and the tower that sees, and the light that showed me a path through the sea.
Keep your run along a course between those constellations. I leave the rest to Fortune: may she help and guide you better than you do yourself.
I see and approve of the better, but I follow the worse.
May the world near and far dread the sons of Aeneas, and if there be land that feared not Rome, may it love Rome instead.
From that time on she lived in lonely caves.
What did Sappho of Lesbos teach but how to love women?
Lesbia quid docuit Sappho nisi amare puellas?
To feed her love on melancholy sorrow.
Time gliding by without our knowledge cheats us, and nothing can be swifter than the years.
Barbarus hic ego sum, quia non intelligor illis.
And now, as she died for the second time, she never complained that her husband had failed her – what could she complain of, except that he’d loved her?
And last her voice remained. Vanished in forest.
Male beauty’s better for neglect.
All things do change; but nothing sure doth perish.
Ah, wretched me! that love is not to be cured by any herbs; and that those arts which afford relief to all, are of no avail for their master.
Wait for the final day. Call no man happy until he is dead and his body is laid to rest in the grave.
How I wish your eyes were able to pierce deep down to my heart and catch a glimpse of your father’s anxiety.