Virtue lies half way between two opposite vices.

Gold delights to walk through the very midst of the guard, and to break its way through hard rocks, more powerful in its blow than lightning.

Rains driven by storms fall not perpetually on the land already sodden, neither do varying gales for ever disturb the Caspian sea.

Dispel the cold, bounteously replenishing the hearth with logs.

For example, the tiny ant, a creature of great industry, drags with its mouth whatever it can, and adds it to the heap which she is piling up, not unaware nor careless of the future.

Here, or nowhere, is the thing we seek.

I am not bound over to swear allegiance to any master; where the storm drives me I turn in for shelter.