One day, in the San Francisco walk, he came upon some badly painted figures and observed that good painters imitate nature but bad ones vomit it forth.

Nay, what is worse, perhaps turn poet, which, they say, is an infectious and incurable distemper.

I have always heard, Sancho, that doing good to base fellows is like throwing water into the sea.

The ass will carry his load, but not a double load; ride not a free horse to death.

In the night all cats are gray.

God helps everyone with what is his own.

We must not stand upon trifles.