Not to be born at all would be the best thing for man.
When we are dead; rugs are no richer than a quick-thorn bed.
To many men well-fitting doors are not set on their tongues.
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.
Restrain thy mind, and let mildness ever attend thy tongue.
Even to a wicked man a divinity gives wealth, Cyrnus, but to few men comes the gift of excellence.