Cunning leads to knavery. It is but a step from one to the other, and that very slippery. Only lying makes the difference; add that to cunning, and it is knavery.
Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name.
If he should love deny him what he loves!
It is some relief to weep; grief is satisfied and carried off by tears.
He is a foolish swimmer who swims against the stream, when he might take the current sideways.
Everything changes, nothing is lost.