There is something in the pang of change more than the heart can bear, unhappiness remembering happiness.

The day is for honest men, the night for thieves.

For no mortal ever attains to blessedness. One may be luckier than another when wealth flows his way, but blessed never.

To a father waxing old, nothing is dearer than a daughter; sons have spirits of a higher pitch, but less inclined to endearing fondness.

Moderation, the noblest gift of Heaven.

Love must not touch the marrow of the soul. Our affections must be breakable chains that we can cast them off or tighten them.

Prosperity is full of friends.