He is not poor who has a competency.
It is your concern when your neighbor's wall is on fire.
It is your business when the wall next door catches fire.
In Rome you long for the country. In the country you praise to the skies the distant town.
Pale Death beats equally at the poor man's gate and at the palaces of kings.
The mob may hiss me, but I congratulate myself while I contemplate my treasures in their hoard.