Light troubles speak; the weighty are struck dumb.
Whatever fortune has raised to a height, she has raised only to cast it down.
Conversation has a kind of charm about it, an insuating and insidious something that elicits secrets from us just like love or liquor.
The things that are essential are acquired with little bother; it is the luxuries that call for toil and effort.
This body is not a home, but an inn; and that only for a short time.
Why will no man confess his faults? Because he continues to indulge in them; a man cannot tell his dream till he wakes.