The tibia is further away than the knee.
Now begins a torrent of worlds and a trickling sense.
Youth passes like a dream.
Beauty is an evil in an ivory setting.
Age overtakes us all; our temples first; then our cheek and chin, slowly and surely, creep the frost of time. Up and do somewhat, ere thy limbs are sere.
All cats love a cushioned couch.
Even a little gift may be vast with loving kindness.
Men shall look on thee and murmur to each other, “Lo! how small Was the gift, and yet how precious!.” Friendship’s gifts are priceless all.
The godly seed fares well: the wicked’s is accurst.
Reflect, ere you spurn me, that youth at his sides Wears wings; and once gone, all pursuit he derides.
For heaven’s eternal wisdom has decreed, that man of man should ever stand in need.
Cicala to cicala is dear, and ant to ant, and hawks to hawks, but to me the muse and song.
Faults are beauties in a lover’s eye.
Cats will always lie soft.
The Greeks got into Troy by trying, my pretties: everything’s done by trying.
Sleeping we imagine what awake we wish; Dogs dream of bones, and fishermen of fish.
Beautiful is the bloom of youth, but it lasts only for a short time.
Man will ever stand in need of man.
Beauty is a delightful prejudice.
Trying will do anything in this world.
A man hopes as long as he lives, first the dead hope no more.
For those who doing well, everything goes well.
Only poverty stimulates skills; she is the teacher of effort.
There is no medicine and no plaster for love.
The sea is still, the winds are still, but nothing stills my sorrow.
The rose, too, is beautiful, yet time makes it wither.
