Nothing leads to good that is not natural.
Most gladly would I give the blood-stained laurel for the first violet which March brings us, the fragrant pledge of the new-fledged year.
He who considers too much will perform little.
What's old collapses, times change, And new life blossoms in the ruins.
Arrow-swift the present sweepeth, and motionless forever stands the past.
The joke loses everything when the joker laughs himself.