Spare the soul that feels a deadly wound.

Everything changes, nothing is lost.

I grabbed a pile of dust, and holding it up, foolishly asked for as many birthdays as the grains of dust, I forgot to ask that they be years of youth.

Thanks are justly due for boons unbought

There is something in omens.

When a rose dies, a thorn is left behind.

Simplicity, very rare in our age.