How can I govern others, who can't even govern myself?
No noble man ever hated good wine.
The right moment wears a full head of hair: when it has been missed, you can't get it back; it's bald in the back of the head and never turns around.
One inch of joy surmounts of grief a span, Because to laugh is proper to the man.
Science without conscience is the soul's perdition.
But where are the snows of last year? That was the greatest concern of Villon, the Parisian poet.