Nothing Befalls A Man Except What Is

Infinity Is A Fathomless Gulf, Into Which All Things Vanish.

A Little Time, And Thou Shalt Close Thy Eyes; And Him Who Has Attended Thee To Thy Grave, Another Soon Will Lament.

Each Thing Is Of Like Form From Everlasting And Comes Round Again In Its Cycle...

He Does Not Write At All Whose Poems No Man Reads

In The Case Of Most Pains Let This Remark Of Epicurus Aid Thee, That The Pain Is Neither Intolerable Nor Everlasting, If Thou Bear In Mind That It Has Its Limits, And If Thou Addest Nothing To It In Imagination.