Bright youth passes swiftly as a thought.
Not to be born at all would be the best thing for man.
Rash, angry words, and spoken out of season, When passion has usurp'd the throne of reason, Have ruin'd many. Passion is unjust, And for an idle, transitory gust Of gratified revenge, dooms us to pay With long repentance at a later day.
He who mistrusts most should be trusted least.
Surfeit begets insolence, when prosperity comes to a bad man.
To many men well-fitting doors are not set on their tongues.