Vicissitude of fortune which spares neither man nor the proudest of his works, but buries empires and cities in a common grave.
Misfortune does not always wait on vice, nor is success the constant guest of virtue.
Such are the vicissitudes of the world, through all its parts, that day and night, labor and rest, hurry and retirement, endear each other. Such are the changes that keep the mind in action; we desire, we pursue, we obtain, we are satiated; we desire something else, and begin a new pursuit.
Happy the man who can endure the highest and the lowest fortune.—He who has endured such vicissitudes with equanimity has deprived misfortune of its power.
But yesterday the word of Caesar might have stood against the world; now lies he there, and none so poor to do him reverence.
Sometimes the brightest day hath cloud, and summer evermore succeeds barren winter with its wrathful, nipping cold.—So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
The most affluent may be stripped of all, and find his worldly comforts, like so many withered leaves, dropping from him.