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Mankind led on by gods err all too easily.
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The way of God is complex, he is hard for us to predict. He moves the pieces and they come somehow into a kind of order.
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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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Life is short, yet sweet.
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Both to the rich and poor, wine is the happy antidote for sorrow.
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When a good man is hurt, all who would be called good must suffer with him.
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I think it makes small difference to the dead, if they are buried in the tokens of luxury. All that is an empty glorification left for those who live.
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Waste no tears over the griefs of yesterday.
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The man who sticks it out against his fate shows spirit, but the spirit of a fool.
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The fountains of sacred rivers flow upwards (i.e., everything is turned topsy turvy).
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The gifts of bad men bring no good with them.
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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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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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Chance fights ever on the side of the prudent.
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Ignorance of one's misfortunes is clear gain.
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Everyone asks if a man is rich, no one if he is good.
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Among mortals second thoughts are wisest.
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Toil, says the proverb, is the sire of fame.
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Waste not fresh tears over old griefs.
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Dishonor will not trouble me, once I am dead.
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In misfortune, which friend remains a friend?
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In case of dissension, never dare to judge till you've heard the other side.
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Time will explain it all. He is a talker, and needs no questioning before he speaks.
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If there are none [gods], All our toil is without meaning.