I have not wasted life, but life hath wasted me.

Kindness can turn the bad man's heart, and fools convert to wise, Make poison into nectar-juice, and friends of enemies.

Knowledge is wonderful and truth serene But man in their service bleeds.

Idleness is a great enemy to mankind. There is no friend like energy, for, if you cultivate that, it will never fail.

The pearl on my beloved's neck, Afflicted sore the oyster!

Let us keep a firm grip upon our money, for without it the whole assembly of virtues are but as blades of grass.

Trees bend low with ripened fruit clouds hang down with gentle rain noble people bow graciously. This is the way of generous things.

For a moment man is a boy, for a moment a lovesick youth, for a moment bereft of wealth, for a moment in the height of prosperity then at life's end with limbs worn out by old age and wrinkles adorning his face, like an actor he retires behind the curtain of death.

Even the severed branch grows again, and the sunken moon returns: wise men who ponder this are not troubled in adversity.

Three courses open lie to wealth, to give, enjoy, or lose, Who shrinketh from the former two, perforce the third doth choose.

The constant man loses not his virtue in misfortune. A torch may point towards the ground, but its flame will still point upwards.

Trees loaded with fruit are bent down the clouds when charged with fresh rain hang down near the earth: even so good men are not uplifted through prosperity. Such is the natural character of the liberal.

Those from whom we were born have long since departed, and those with whom we grew up exist only in memory. We, too, through the approach of death, become, as it were, trees growing on the sandy bank of a river.