Cowards' weapons neither cut nor pierce.

High birth is an accident, not a virtue.

The aged oak upon the steep stands more firm and secure if assailed by angry winds; for if the winter bares its head, the more strongly it strikes its roots into the ground, acquiring strength as it loses beauty.

Of all faults the greatest is the excess of impious terror, dishonoring divine grace. He who despairs wants love, wants faith; for faith, hope, and love are three torches which blend their light together, nor does the one shine without the other.

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

If the internal griefs of every man could be read, written on his forehead, how many who now excite envy would appear to be the objects of pity?

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