In love there are two evils: war and peace.

We set up harsh and unkind rules against ourselves. No one is born without faults. That man is best who has fewest.

Happy he who far from business, like the primitive are of mortals, cultivates with his own oxen the fields of his fathers, free from all anxieties of gain.

Our parents, worse than our grandparents, gave birth to us who are worse than they, and we shall in our turn bear offspring still more evil.

Only a stomach that rarely feels hungry scorns common things.

Nothing is too high for the daring of mortals: we storm heaven itself in our folly.

A good scare is worth more than good advice.