Everything flows and nothing stays.

Thou shalt not take moochers into thy hut?

A boy without mischief is like a bowling ball without a liquid center.

Look at me! I'm a puffy pink cloud!

And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, he rots away himself-more birds than women flocking round his body!

It is equally offensive to speed a guest who would like to stay and to detain one who is anxious to leave.

But curb thou the high spirit in thy breast, for gentle ways are best, and keep aloof from sharp contentions.