Death is softer by far than tyranny.
What good is it to live a life that brings pains?
The wisest of the wise may err.
Ah, lives of men! When prosperous they glitter – Like a fair picture; when misfortune comes – A wet sponge at one blow has blurred the painting.
If a man suffers ill, let it be without shame; for this is the only profit when we are dead. You will never say a good word about deeds that are evil and disgraceful.
Too few rejoice at a friend’s good fortune.
Time brings all things to pass.
For this is the mark of a wise and upright man, not to rail against the gods in misfortune.
For there is no defense for a man who, in the excess of his wealth, has kicked the great altar of Justice out of sight.
For somehow this disease inheres in tyranny, never to trust one’s friends.