Seest thou how pale the sated guest rises from supper, where the appetite is puzzled with varieties? The body, too, burdened with I yesterday's excess, weighs down the soul, and fixes to the earth this particle of the divine essence.
A good resolve will make any port.
Wherever the storm carries me, I go a willing guest.
Designedly God covers in dark night the issue of futurity.
Anger is short-lived madness.
They change their sky, not their mind, who cross the sea. A busy idleness possesses us: we seek a happy life, with ships and carriages: the object of our search is present with us.