There is no glory in outstripping donkeys.
You crystal break, for fear of breaking it: Careless and careful hands like faults commit.
There is nothing more contemptible than a bald man who pretends to have hair.
Be content to be what you are, and prefer nothing to it, and do not fear or wish for your last day.
You admire, Vacerra, only the poets of old and praise only those who are dead. Pardon me, I beseech you, Vacerra, if I think death too high a price to pay for your praise.
Genuine is the sorrow endured without anyone else knowing about it.