We mourn the transitory things and fret under the yoke of the immutable ones.
Many a necklace becomes a noose.
Avarice is fear sheathed in gold.
Jealousy would be far less torturous if we understood that love is a passion entirely unrelated to our merits.
To have lived long does not necessarily imply the gathering of much wisdom and experience. One who has pedaled twenty-five thousand miles on a stationary bicycle has not circled the globe. He or she has only garnered weariness.
In the spider-web of facts, many a truth is strangled.