There are the terrible ones who carry about in themselves the beast of prey, and have no choice except lusts or self-laceration. And even their lusts are self-laceration.

On the tree, Future, we build our nest; and in our solitude eagles shall bring us nourishment in their beaks!

Women want to serve, and this is where their happiness lies: but the free spirit does not want to be served, and this is where hishappiness lies.

The apprentice and the master love the master in different ways.

My brother, are war and battle evil? Necessary, however, is the evil; necessary are the envy and the distrust and the back-biting among the virtues.

Alas, where is there still a sea in which one could drown: thus our lament resounds – across shallow swamps.

Wit is the epitaph of an emotion.