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Sleep, rest of things, O pleasing Deity, Peace of the soul, which cares dost crucify, Weary bodies refresh and mollify.
Ovid
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Ovid
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Publius Ovidius Naso
P. Ovidius Naso
Peace
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Pleasing
Soul
Weary
Things
Cares
Crucify
Bodies
Refresh
Rest
Dost
Sleep
Insomnia
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A red rose peeping through a white? Or else a cherry (double graced) Within a lily? Centre placed? Or ever marked the pretty beam, A strawberry shows, half drowned in cream? Or seen rich rubies blushing through A pure smooth pearl, and orient too? So like to this, nay all the rest, Is each neat niplet of her breast.
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A frail gift is beauty, which grows less as time draws on, and is devoured by its own years.
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Anything cracked will shatter at a touch.
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I see and praise what is better, but follow what is worse.
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He who has lived obscurely and quietly has lived well.
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