We endeavor to stuff the universe into the gullet of an aphorism.
Jealousy would be far less torturous if we understood that love is a passion entirely unrelated to our merits.
Avarice is fear sheathed in gold.
To judge a man's character by only one of its manifestations is like judging the sea by a jugful of its water.
We mourn the transitory things and fret under the yoke of the immutable ones.
If we were brought to trial for the crimes we have committed against ourselves, few would escape the gallows.