Women's words are as light as the doomed leaves whirling in autumn, Easily swept by the wind, easily drowned by the wave.
We have ploughed the vast ocean in a fragile bark.
The high-spirited man may indeed die, but he will not stoop to meanness. Fire, though it may be quenched, will not become cool.
Hastiness is the beginning of wrath, and its end repentance.
We are ever striving after what is forbidden, and coveting what is denied us.
The lamp burns bright when wick and oil are clean.