All sorrows are bearable, if there is bread.
When the head aches, all the members partake of the pain.
I am almost frightened out of my seven senses.
The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise.
Every man is the son of his own works.
Blessed be he who invented sleep, a cloak that covers all a man's thoughts.