Self-love is the source of all our other loves.
I would not like a king who could obey.
Oh rage! Oh despair! Oh age, my enemy!
He should be envied Who when his strength is spent lays down his life. Old age reserves a melancholy fate For noble souls before their life is done.
He on whom heaven confers a sceptre knows not the weight till he bears it.
The manner of giving is worth more than the gift.