Poets tell many lies.
In all things that you do, consider the end.
Let no man be called happy before his death. Till then, he is not happy, only lucky.
If all men were to bring their miseries together in one place, most would be glad to take each his own home again rather than take a portion out of the common stock.
True blessedness consisteth in a good life and a happy death.
Wealth breeds satiety, satiety outrage.