He is a foolish swimmer who swims against the stream, when he might take the current sideways.
Virtue and vice, evil and good, are siblings, or next-door neighbors, Easy to make mistakes, hard to tell them apart.
Happy the man who can count his sufferings.
That, which has not its alternation of rest, will not last long.
Like fragile ice anger passes away in time.
You will be melancholy, if you are solitary.