In every tyrant's heart there springs in the end this poison, that he cannot trust a friend.
I gave them hope, and so turned away their eyes from death
Beyond age, leaf withered, man goes three footed no stronger than a child is, a dream that falters in daylight.
The reward of pain is experience.
Mourn for me rather as living than as dead.
Misfortune wandering the same track lights now upon one and now upon another.