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.

The happy think a lifetime short, but to the unhappy one night can be an eternity.

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.

How gracious are the gods in bestowing high positions; and how reluctant are they to insure them when given.

Now that I know what I want, I don't have to hold on to it quite so much.

Poverty persuades a man to do and suffer everything that he may escape from it.

The subject matter is autobiographical, it's all to do with hope and memory and sensuality and involvement, really.