Both Empedocles and Heraclitus held it for a truth that man could not be altogether cleared from injustice in dealing with beasts as he now does.

Lamentation is the only musician that always, like a screech-owl, alights and sits on the roof of any angry man.

The authors of great evils know best how to remove them.

Real excellence, indeed, is most recognized when most openly looked into.

The first man . . . ventured to call food and nourishment the parts that had a little before bellowed and cried, moved and lived. How could his eyes endure the slaughter when throats were slit and hides flayed and limbs torn from limb? How could his nose endure the stench? How was it that the pollution did not turn away his taste, which made contact with the sores of others and sucked juices and serums from mortal wounds?

For the wise man, every day is a festival.

I confess myself the greatest coward in the world, for I dare not do an ill thing.