Original text (French)
Honor is like an island, rugged and without a beach; once we have left it, we can never return.
Time flies and draws us with it. The moment in which I am speaking is already far from me.
Hasten slowly, and without losing heart,
Put your work twenty times upon the anvil.
Happy the poet who with ease can steer
From grave to gay, from lively to severe.
Every age has its pleasures, its style of wit, and its own ways.
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