“A true friend is distinguished in the crisis of hazard and necessity; when the gallantry of his aid may show the worth of his soul and the loyalty of his heart.”

Ennius was the father of Roman poetry, because he first introduced into Latin the Greek manner and in particular the hexameter metre.

Don’t ask of your friends what you yourself can do.

They hate whom they fear.

Let no one pay me honor with tears, nor celebrate my funeral rites with weeping.

Let no one honour me with tears, or bury me with lamentation. Why? Because I fly hither and thither, living in the mouths of me. [Lat., Nemo me lacrymis decoret, nec funera fletu. Faxit cur? Volito vivu’ per ora virum.]

He hath freedom whoso beareth a clean and constant heart within.

Let no one weep for me, or celebrate my funeral with mourning; for I still live, as I pass to and fro through the mouths of men.

He who has two languages has two souls.

Here is he laid to whom for daring deed, nor friend nor foe could render worthy meed.

The ape, vilest of beasts, how like to us.

I never indulge in rhyme or stanza Unless I’m in bed with the influenza.

The wise man is wise in vain who cannot be wise to his own advantage.

He who civilly shows the way to one who has missed it, is as one who has lighted another’s lamp from his own lamp; it none the less gives light to himself when it burns for the other.

The idle mind knows not what it wants.

O friend unseen, unborn, unknown, Student of our sweet English tongue, I never indulge in poetics – Unless I am down with rheumatics.

A true friend is tested in adversity.