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.

In this market every head has a different fancy: everyone winds his turban in a different fashion.

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

Flowers and fruit are never combined in one place: it is impossible that teeth and delicacies should exist simultaneously.

Peace is in proportion to every pause: observe the difference between to run, to walk, to stand, to sit, to lie, to die.

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

What does it profit you that all the libraries of the world should be yours? Not knowledge but what one does with knowledge is your profit.