But where are the snows of last year? That was the greatest concern of Villon, the Parisian poet.

According to true military art, one should never push one's enemy to the point of despair, because such a state multiplies his strength and increases his courage which had already been crushed and failing, and because there is no better remedy for the health of beaten and overwhelmed men than the absence of all hope.

There is no truer cause of unhappiness amongst men than, where naturally expecting charity and benevolence, they receive harm and vexation.

Between two stools one sits on the ground.

For God, nothing is impossible. And, if he wanted, in the future women would give birth from their ears.

Believe me, 'tis a godlike thing to lend; to owe is a heroic virtue.

Indeed, said the monk, a mass, a matins, and vespers well rung are half-said.