So Nothing Is Ever Good Or Bad

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.

Contemplate The Extent And Stability Of The Heavens, And Then At Last Cease To Admire Worthless Things.

Love Has Three Kinds Of Origin, Namely: Suffering, Friendship And Love. A Human Love Has A Corporal And Intellectual Origin.

Inconsistency Is My Very Essence; It Is The Game I Never Cease To Play As I Turn My Wheel In Its Ever Changing Circle, Filled With Joy As I Bring The Top To The Bottom And The Bottom To The Top