“Most grievous of all deaths it is to die of hunger.”

The journey is its own reward.

Choose well.

Dreams surely are difficult, confusing, and not everything in them is brought to pass for mankind.

Empty words are evil.

There is nothing worse for mortals than a wandering life.

What are the children of men, but as leaves that drop at the wind’s breath?

Sleep, delicious and profound, the very counterfeit of death.

There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible – magic to make the sanest man go mad.

The charity that is a trifle to us can be precious to others.

Men are so quick to blame the gods.

The sort of words a man says is the sort he hears in return.

The blade itself incites to deeds of violence.

Always to be best, and distinguished above the rest.

Everything looks bad if you remember it.

A small rock holds back a great wave.

Many shining actions owe their success to chance, though the general or statesman receive the applause.

We should have been wiser; we should have died yesterday.

Day’s lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death.

Whatever lives, lives to die in sorrow. We engage our hearts, and grasp after the things of this world, only to undergo the pang of losing them.

Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing. Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

Dying – you can’t do that to a cat.

We go to the grave of a friend saying, “A man is dead,” but angels throng about him saying, “A man is born.”

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

What shall he fear that does not fear death.