One Sallow does not make Summer.

Fate with impartial hand turns out the doom of high and low; her capacious urn is constantly shaking the names of all mankind.

Mountains will go into labour, and a silly little mouse will be born.

Those who say nothing about their poverty will obtain more than those who turn beggars.

I have lived: tomorrow the Father may fill the sky with black clouds or with cloudless sunshine.

In adversity be spirited and firm, and with equal prudence lessen your sail when filled with a too fortunate gale of prosperity.

There are faults we would fain pardon.