She only is chaste, who is chaste where there is no danger of detection: she who does not, because she may not, does.
Concealed sorrow bursts the heart, and rages within us as an internal fire.
We have ploughed the vast ocean in a fragile bark.
Nothing is swifter than our years.
A wealthy traveller fears an ambush, while one with empty pockets journeys on in safety.
What is more useful than fire? Yet if any one prepares to burn a house, it is with fire that he arms his daring hands.