When a man becomes old, his greed becomes young: sleep grows heavy at the time of morning.

The march of good fortune has backward slips: to retreat one or two paces gives wings to the jumper.

When a man becomes old, his greed becomes young: sleep grows heavy at the time of morning.

If I am mad, then who on the face of the earth is sane? If you are sane, then there is no madman in the world.

Formerly, people used to grieve over the departed, but in our days they grieve over the survivors.

The weeping of the candle is not in mourning for the moth: the dawn is at hand, and it is thinking of its own dark night.

The rosary in the hand, repentance on the lips, and the heart full of sinful longings-sin itself laughs at our repentance!