Cicero: “And so in Rome only the walls of her houses remain standing--and even they wait now in fear of the most unspeakable…”

Nay, if some god should grant me to renew my childhood from my present age and once more to be crying in my cradle, I would firmly refuse; nor should I in truth be willing, after having, as it were, run the full course, to be recalled from…

But my soul, I know not how, refusing to be kept down, ever fixed its eyes upon future ages, as though from a conviction that it would begin to live only when it had left the body.

For nature puts a limit to living as to everything else.

Again, is there not the fact that the wisest man ever dies with the greatest cheerfulness, the most unwise with the least?