Little folks become their little fate.

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

All else-valor, a good name, glory, everything in heaven and earth-is secondary to the charm of riches.

We are just statistics, born to consume resources.

It was intended to be a vase, it has turned out a pot.

The Sun, the stars and the seasons as they pass, some can gaze upon these with no strain of fear.

The covetous man is ever in want.