Like warmed-up cabbage served at each repast, The repetition kills the wretch at last.
Nature confesses that she has bestowed on the human race hearts of softest mould, in that she has given us tears.
Only death reveals what a nothing the body of man is.
Poverty is bitter, but it has no harder pang than that it makes men ridiculous.
Yes, know thyself: in great concerns or small, be this thy care, for this, my friend, is all.
Men who ape the saint and play the sinner.