The man whom heaven helps has friends enough.
He who can properly summarize many ideas in a brief statement, is a wise man.
Alas!-but why Alas? It is the lot of mortality we experience.
Happy the man whose lot it is to know The secrets of the earth. He hastens not To work his fellows hurt by unjust deeds, But with rapt admiration contemplates Immortal Nature's ageless harmony, And how and when the order came to be.
Do not grieve so much for a husband lost that it wastes away your life.
We must believe in the gods no longer if injustice is to prevail over justice.
What can we take on trust in this uncertain life? Happiness, greatness, pride - nothing is secure, nothing keeps.
Lady, the sun's light to our eyes is dear, And fair the tranquil reaches of the sea, And flowery earth in May, and bounding waters; And so right many fair things I might praise; Yet nothing is so radiant and so fair As for souls childless, with desire sore-smitten, To see the light of babes about the house.
Those whom God wishes to destroy, he first makes mad.
I love the old way best, the simple way of poison, where we too are strong as men.
Fate finds for every man; his share of misery.
Who then will dare to say I'm weak or timid? No, they'll say I'm loyal as a friend, ruthless as a foe, so much like a hero destined for glory.
We look for good on earth and cannot recognize it when met.
Men make their choice: one man honors one God, and one another.
Account no man happy till he dies.
Down on your knees, and thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's love.
A just cause needs no interpreting. It carries its own case. But the unjust argument since it is sick, needs clever medicine.
A woman should be good for everything at home, but abroad good for nothing.
Remember this! No amount of Bacchic reveling can corrupt an honest woman.
You women are all the same, if bed's all right, You think everything else can go to the wind. But if there's any infringement of your bed-rights, Then fair is foul and all hell's let loose.
Necessity is harsh. Fate has no reprieve.
The life of men is painful.
Who dares not speak his free thoughts is a slave.
Toil, says the proverb, is the sire of fame.
Virtue proceeds through effort.
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