Now two punctilious envoys, Thine and Mine, Embroil the earth about a fancied line; And, dwelling much on right and much on wrong, Prove how the right is chiefly with the strong.
Every age has its pleasures, its style of wit, and its own ways.
Everything that poverty touches becomes frightful.
The wisest man is he who does not fancy that he is so at all.
Who is content with nothing possesses all things.
Honor is like an island, rugged and without a beach; once we have left it, we can never return.