He who writes distichs, wishes, I suppose, to please by brevity. But, tell me, of what avail is their brevity, when there is a whose book full of them?

If you have any shame, forbear to pluck the beard of a dead lion.

Short is the life of those who possess great accomplishments, and seldom do they reach a good old age. Whatever thou lovest, pray that thou mayest not set too high a value on it.

Fortune gives many too much, but none enough.

He truly sorrows who sorrows unseen.

Those they praise, but they read the others.

Our days pass by, and are scored against us.