May he die with no joy at his end, The man who won't be troubled To unlock the keys of his heart and make a friend.

Some wisdom you must learn from one who's wise

The mob gets out of hand, runs wild, worse than raging fire, while the man who stands apart is called a coward.

The fiercest anger of all, the most incurable, Is that which rages in the place of dearest love.

The wavering mind is but a base possession.

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.

Blood streams in sacrifice; yet anguish finds no cure.