By Time and Age full many things are taught.
We spoil ourselves with scruples long as things go well.
O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray, To come to me: of cureless ills thou art The one physician. Pain lays not its touch Upon a corpse.
In every tyrant's heart there springs in the end this poison, that he cannot trust a friend.
Time cleanses what it touches over time.
They who prosper take on airs of vanity.