Let this be your wall of brass, to have nothing on your conscience, no guilt to make you turn pale.
Capture the day, put minimum trust on tomorrow.
Those who say nothing about their poverty will obtain more than those who turn beggars.
The envious man grows lean at the success of his neighbor.
When I struggle to be terse, I end by being obscure.
What has this unfeeling age of ours left untried, what wickedness has it shunned?