The fastidious are unfortunate; nothing satisfies them.
The strongest passion is fear.
There is no road of flowers leading to glory.
There is nothing useless to men of sense.
We must laugh before we are happy, for fear we die before we laugh at all.
We read on the foreheads of those who are surrounded by a foolish luxury, that fortune sells what she is thought to give.
Sadness flies away on the wings of time.