What mortal claims, by searching to the utmost limit, to have found out the nature of God, or of his opposite, or of that which comes between, seeing as he doth this world of man tossed to and fro by waves of contradiction and strange vicissitudes?
Ten soldiers wisely led will beat a hundred without a head.
The wavering mind is but a base possession.
'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore.
Wealth stays with us a little moment if at all: only our characters are steadfast, not our gold.
Better a serpent than a stepmother!