It is the poor man who'll ever count his flock.
The mind ill at ease, the body suffers also.
Give way to your opponent; thus will you gain the crown of victory.
There is nothing constant in the universe. All ebb and flow, and every shape that's born, bears in its womb the seeds of change.
God himself favors the brave.
For in this strange anatomy we wear, the head has greater powers than the hand; the spirit, heart, and mind are over all.