The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards (i.e., everything is turned topsy turvy).
The wisest men follow their own direction.
Of mortals there is no one who is happy. If wealth flows in upon one, one may be perhaps luckier than one's neighbor, but still not happy.
The same man cannot well be skilled in everything; each has his special excellence.
Poverty possesses this disease; through want it teaches a man evil.
The gods have sent medicines for the venom of serpents, but there is no medicine for a bad woman. She is more noxious than the viper, or than fire itself.