No hero to me is the man who, by easy shedding of his blood, purchases fame: my hero is he who, without death, can win praise.
A vagrant is everywhere at home.
I do not hate the man, but his vices.
In adversity it is easy to despise life; he is truly brave who can endure a writeched life
Fortune gives many too much, but none enough.
Whoever makes great presents, expects great presents in return.