The most regular and most perfect soul in the world has but too much to do to keep itself upright from being overthrown by its own weakness.

There is no man so good, who, were he to submit all his thoughts and actions to the laws, would not deserve hanging ten times in his life.

There are no truths, only moments of claryty passing for answers.

It is a rare life that remains orderly even in private.

There is no so wretched and coarse a soul wherein some particular faculty is not seen to shine.

That is why Bias jested with those who were going through the perils of a great storm with him and calling on the gods for help: "Shut up," he said, "so that they do not realize that you are here with me.

My errors are by now natural and incorrigible; but the good that worthy men do the public by making themselves imitable, I shall perhaps do by making myself evitable.