Often have brief words laid men low and then raise them up.

In season, all is good.

Time is the only test of honest men, one day is space enough to know a rogue.

A wise player ought to accept his throws and score them, not bewail his luck.

Old age and the passage of time teach all things.

Kindness is ever the begetter of kindness.

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.