If There Is Anything Good About Nobility

...whose Souls, Albeit In A Cloudy Memory, Yet Seek Back Their Good, But, Like Drunk Men, Know Not The Road Home.

One's Virtue Is All That One Truly Has, Because It Is Not Imperiled By The Vicissitudes Of Fortune.

I Who Once Wrote Songs With Keen Delight Am Now By Sorrow Driven To Take Up Melancholy Measures. Wounded Muses Tell Me What I Must Write, And Elegiac Verses Bathe My Face With Real Tears. Not Even Terror Could Drive From Me These Faithful Companions Of My Long Journey. Poetry, Which Was Once The Glory Of My Happy And Flourishing Youth, Is Still My Comfort In This Misery Of My Old Age.

No Man Can Ever Be Secure Until He Has Been Forsaken By Fortune.

If There Is A God, Whence Proceed So Many Evils? If There Is No God, Whence Cometh Any Good?