Omnia mutantur; nihil interit - Ovid

No species remains constant: that great renovator of matter
Nature, endlessly fashions new forms from old: there’s nothing in the whole universe that perishes, believe me; rather it renews and varies its substance. What we describe as birth is no more than incipient change from a prior state, while dying
is merely to quit it. Though the parts may be transported hither and thither, the sum of all matter is constant.

I am the poet of the poor, because I was poor when I loved; since I could not give gifts, I gave words.

Argus, you are fallen, and the light in all your lamps is utterly put out: one hundred eyes, one darkness all the same!