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Friendship doubles your joys, and divides your sorrows.
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This is slavery, not to speak one's thought.
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Reason can wrestle and overthrow terror.
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There is nothing more hostile to a city that a tyrant, under whom in the first and chiefest place, there are not laws in common, but one man, keeping the law himself to himself, has the sway, and this is no longer equal.
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Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
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The gifts of bad men bring no good with them.
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The brash unbridled tongue, the lawless folly of fools, will end in pain. But the life of wise content is blest with quietness, escapes the storm and keeps its house secure.
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No one is truly free, they are a slave to wealth, fortune, the law, or other people restraining them from acting according to their will.
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Let no one think of me that I am humble or weak or passive; let them understand I am of a different kind: dangerous to my enemies, loyal to my friends. To such a life glory belongs.
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A wise man in his house should find a wife gentle and courteous, or no wife at all.
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Everyone asks if a man is rich, no one if he is good.
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Chance fights ever on the side of the prudent.
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When good men die their goodness does not perish.
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Love must not touch the marrow of the soul. Our affections must be breakable chains that we can cast them off or tighten them.
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If there are none [gods], All our toil is without meaning.
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Time will explain it all. He is a talker, and needs no questioning before he speaks.
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Those who have not, and live in want, are a menace, Ridden with envy and fooled by demagogues.
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The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards (i.e., everything is turned topsy turvy).
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Among mortals second thoughts are wisest.
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Moderation, the noblest gift of Heaven.
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In case of dissension, never dare to judge till you've heard the other side.
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Doth some one say that there be gods above? There are not; no, there are not. Let no fool, Led by the old false fable, thus deceive you. Look at the facts themselves, yielding my words, No undue credence: for I say that kings kill, rob, break oaths, lay cities waste by fraud, And doing thus are happier than those, Who live calm pious lives day after day. All divinity is built-up from our good and evil luck.
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Toil, says the proverb, is the sire of fame.
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I care for riches, to make gifts To friends, or lead a sick man back to health With ease and plenty. Else small aid is wealth For daily gladness; once a man be done With hunger, rich and poor are all as one.