A hungry stomach rarely despises common food.
There is a proper measure in all things, certain limits beyond which and short of which right is not to be found. Who so cultivates the golden mean avoids the poverty of a hovel and the envy of a palace.
The snow has at last melted, the fields regain their herbage, and the trees their leaves.
Books have their destinies.
There is no such thing as perfect happiness.
Poets wish to profit or to please.