To the fool-king belongs the world.
In a narrow circle the mind contracts. Man grows with his expanded needs.
In love, Jealousy is the great exaggerator.
An honest man you may form of windle-straws, but to make a rogue you must have grist.
Not without a shudder may the human hand reach into the mysterious urn of destiny.
There are evil spirits who suddenly fix their abode in man's unguarded breast, causing us to commit devilish deeds, and then, hurrying back to their native hell, leave behind the stings of remorse in the poisoned bosom.