The farce is finished. I go to seek a vast perhaps.
Keep running after a dog and he will never bite you.
Bring down the curtain, the farce is over
The scent of wine, oh how much more agreeable, laughing, praying, celestial and delicious it is than that of oil!
Between two stools one sits on the ground.
Oh thrice and four times happy... those who plant cabbages.