When men have killed joy, I do not believe they still live.

What house, bloated with luxury, ever became prosperous without a woman's excellence?

For God hates utterly the bray of bragging tongues.

All men make mistakes, but a good man yields when he knows his course is wrong, and repairs the evil. The only crime is pride.

Each say following another, either hastening or putting off our death--what pleasure does it bring? I count that man worthless whois cheered by empty hopes. No, a noble man must either live or die well.

Even the stout of heart shrink when they see the approach of death.

Alas, how quickly the gratitude owed to the dead flows off, how quick to be proved a deceiver.