However rich or elevated, a name less something is always wanting to our imperfect fortune.
Pry not into the affairs of others, and keep secret that which has been entrusted to you, though sorely tempted by wine and passion.
No, but you're wrong now, and always will be.
Rains driven by storms fall not perpetually on the land already sodden, neither do varying gales for ever disturb the Caspian sea.
Take as a gift whatever the day brings forth.
The words can not return.