There is no happiness without tears, no life without death. Beware! I am going to make you cry.

Avarice is a cursed vice: offer a man enough gold, and he will part with his own small hoard of food, however great his hunger.

Wise is the person at either end. Who can in due measure spare as well as spend.

The lips are closed, for the dancer has plenty of other voices at his service.

Everybody dies. Some just need a little help.

The industry needs transforming. It’s for others to decide whether they want to get stuck in the past or whether they want to come on the journey.

The poor wretches have convinced themselves that they are going to be immortal and live for all time, by worshipping that crucified sophist and living under his laws...they receive these doctrines by tradition, without any definite evidence. So if any charlatan or trickster comes among them, he quickly acquires wealth by imposing upon these simple people.