Who seeks shall find.

Yet I pity the poor wretch, though he's my enemy. He's yoked to an evil delusion, but the same fate could be mine. I see clearly: we who live are all phantoms, fleeing shadows.

Deem no man happy until he passes the edo fhis life without suffering grief.

The tyrant is a child of pride.

Gentle time will heal our sorrows.

Heap up great wealth in your house, if you wish, and live as a tyrant, but, if the enjoyment of these things be lacking, I would not buy the rest for the shadow of smoke as against happiness.

A cunning fellow is man, inventive beyond all expectation, he reaches sometimes evil and sometimes good