It was a wine jar when the molding began: as the wheel runs round why does it turn out a water pitcher?

And take back ill-polished stanzas to the anvil.

I prayed only for a small piece of land, a garden, an ever-flowing spring, and bit of woods.

He who sings the praises of his boyhood's days.

It makes a great difference whether Davus or a hero speaks.

Nor has he lived in vain, who from his cradle to his grave has passed his life in seclusion.

Never inquire into another man's secret; bur conceal that which is intrusted to you, though pressed both be wine and anger to reveal it.