The eyes of men love to pluck the blossoms from the faded flowers they turn away.

Men whose wit has been mother of villainy once have learned from it to be evil in all things.

Trust dies but mistrust blossoms.

A broad-backed ox can be driven straight on his road even by a small goad.

Shame brings no advantage in misfortunes, for silence (of the accused) is the ally of the speaker.

Surely, to think your own the only wisdom, and yours the only word, the only will, betrays a shallow spirit, an empty heart.

Is anyone in all the world safe from unhappiness?