Add little to little and there will be a big pile.
Love, and a cough, are not concealed.
Had I not sinned what would there be for you to pardon. My fate has given you the opportunity for mercy.
Neither can the wave that has passed by be recalled, nor the hour which has passed return again.
Love is born of idleness and, once born, by idleness is fostered.
Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi sed saepe cadendo. (The drop excavates the stone, not with force but by falling often.)