A friend is, as it were, a second self.

Nothing is so unpredictable as a throw of the dice, and yet every man who plays often will at some time or other make a Venus-cast: now and then he indeed will make it twice and even thrice in succession. Are we going to be so feebleminded then as to aver that such a thing happened by the personal intervention of Venus rather than by pure luck?

Nature has planted in our minds an insatiable longing to see the truth.

It is foolish to pluck out one's hair for sorrow, as if grief could be assuaged by baldness.

Wisdom often exists under a shabby coat.

It is like taking the sun out of the world, to bereave human life of friendship.

Rashness is the companion of youth, prudence of old age.