Nunc Fluens Facit Tempus,nunc Stans Facit Aeternitatum.(the

No Man Can Ever Be Secure Until He Has Been Forsaken By Fortune.

In Every Kind Of Adversity, The Bitterest Part Of A Man's Affliction Is To Remember That He Once Was Happy.

I Who Once Wrote Songs With Keen Delight Am Now By Sorrow Driven To Take Up Melancholy Measures. Wounded Muses Tell Me What I Must Write, And Elegiac Verses Bathe My Face With Real Tears. Not Even Terror Could Drive From Me These Faithful Companions Of My Long Journey. Poetry, Which Was Once The Glory Of My Happy And Flourishing Youth, Is Still My Comfort In This Misery Of My Old Age.

Nunc Fluens Facit Tempus,nunc Stans Facit Aeternitatum.(the Now That Passes Produces Time, The Now That Remains Produces Eternity.)

For In All Adversity Of Fortune The Worst Sort Of Misery Is To Have Been Happy.