Our lives are but specks of dust falling through the fingers of time. Like sands of the hourglass, so are the days of our lives.

I decided that it was not wisdom that enabled poets to write their poetry, but a kind of instinct or inspiration, such as you find in seers and prophets who deliver all their sublime messages without knowing in the least what they mean.

When desire, having rejected reason and overpowered judgment which leads to right, is set in the direction of the pleasure which beauty can inspire . . .

The beginning of wisdom is a definition of terms.

Is it not, then, better to be ridiculous and friendly than clever and hostile?

An honest man is always a child.

Once made equal to man, woman becomes his superior.