Envy, the meanest of vices, creeps on the ground like a serpent.

Tears are at times as eloquent as words. [Weeping hath a voice.]

Add little to little and there will be a big pile.

This victory will be your I ruin.

Ere land and sea and the all-covering sky Were made, in the whole world the countenance Of nature was the same, all one, well named Chaos, a raw and undivided mass, Naught but a lifeless bulk, with warring seeds Of ill-joined elements compressed together.

The act is judged of by the event.

Nothing in the entire universe ever perishes, believe me, but things vary, and adopt a new form. The phrase being born is used for beginning to be something different from what one was before, while dying means ceasing to be the same. Though this thing may pass into that, and that into this, yet the sums of things remains unchanged.