Never does nature say one thing and wisdom another.
Nothing is so intolerable as a woman with a long purse.
An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts.
The traveller with empty pockets will sing in the thief 's face.
Death alone discloses how insignificant are the puny bodies of men.
Drooping along the ground the vine misses its widowed elm.