Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man; the power that crosses the white sea, driven by the stormy wind, making a path under surges that threaten to engulf him.
There is no sense in crying over spilt milk. Why bewail what is done and cannot be recalled?
To me no profitable speech sounds ill.
Pardon, and keep silent, for what is shameful for women must be concealed among women.
Profit is sweet, even if it comes from deception.
Show me the man who keeps his house in hand, He's fit for public authority.