Grief has been compared to a hydra; for every one that dies, two are born.

A friar who asks alms for God's sake begs for two.

Tis not where we lie but whence we fell; the loss of Heaven's the greatest pain in Hell.

In this treacherous world Nothing is the truth nor a lie. Everything depends on the color Of the crystal through which one sees it

Even in dreams doing good is not wasted.

No windows give a better view than those a man brings with him in his head, not asking for tickets of admission, since at all functions, festivals, or feasts he looks out with the same nice self-composure.

At the point when affection is not frenzy, it is not adore.