If every man's internal care Were written on his brow, How many would our pity share Who raise our envy now?

The bee and the serpent often sip from the selfsame flower.

The pilot who is always dreading a rock or a tempest must not complain if he remain a poor fisherman. We must at times trust, something to fortune, for fortune has often some share in what happens.

Though the Indian ocean abounds in rich and rare gems, it does not boast a clearer sky nor more unruffled sea. If there be a shore that dreads not the fury of the faithless billows, it is some poor and narrow inlet unknown to the winds.

It is the just decree of Heaven that a traitor never sees his danger till his ruin is at hand.

Every noble acquisition is attended with its risks; he who fears to encounter the one must not expect to obtain the other.

We are like vessels tossed on the bosom of the deep; our passions are the winds that sweep us impetuously forward; each pleasure is a rock; the whole life is a wide ocean. Reason is the pilot to guide us, but often allows itself to be led astray by the storms of pride.