One goes to the right, the other to the left; both are wrong, but in different directions.
The sorrowful dislike the gay, and the gay the sorrowful.
He who studies to imitate the poet Pindar, O Julius, relies on artificial wings fastened on with wax, and is sure to give his name to a glassy sea.
How slight and insignificant is the thing which casts down or restores a mind greedy for praise.
I am frightened at seeing all the footprints directed towards thy den, and none returning.
In trying to be concise I become obscure.