It is pleasant, when the sea runs high, to view from land the great distress of another.
Suave mari magno, turbantibus æquora ventis
E terra magnum alterius spectare laborum.
E terra magnum alterius spectare laborum.
Original text (Latin)
Original text (Latin)
By protracting life, we do not deduct one jot from the duration of death.
Men are eager to tread underfoot what they have once too much feared.
In the midst of the fountain of wit there arises something bitter, which stings in the very flowers.
We cannot conceive of matter being formed of nothing, since things require a seed to start from.
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