Out of some little thing, too free a tongue can make an outrageous wrangle.
The brave venture anything.
Who cannot open an honest mind No friend will he be of mine.
Alas, how right the ancient saying is: We, who are old, are nothing else but noise And shape. Like mimicries of dreams we go, And have no wits, although we think us wise.
Down on your knees, and thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.
Lucky that man whose children make his happiness in life and not his grief, the anguished disappointment of his hopes.