More liberty begets desire of more; The hunger still increases with the store
Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
Take the good the gods provide thee.
He was exhaled; his great Creator drew His spirit, as the sun the morning dew.
There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.
For secrets are edged tools, And must be kept from children and from fools.