Foolishness is indeed the sister of wickedness.

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If my body is enslaved, still my mind is free.

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Ignorant men don't know what good they hold in their hands until they've flung it away.

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For death is not the worst, but when one wants to die and is not able even to have that.

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As many as are involved in misery of their own choosing, such as you, for them there is no forgiveness nor pity.

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Bear up, my child, bear up; Zeus who oversees and directs all things is still mighty in heaven.

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I see the state of all of us who live, nothing more than phantoms or a weightless shadow.

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In a just cause the weak will beat the strong.

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In particular I may mention Sophocles the poet, who was once asked in my presence, How do you feel about love, Sophocles? are you still capable of it? to which he replied, Hush! if you please: to my great delight I have escaped from it, and feel as if I had escaped from a frantic and savage master. I thought then, as I do now, that he spoke wisely. For unquestionably old age brings us profound repose and freedom from this and other passions.

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A human being is only breath and shadow.

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It is terrible to speak well and be wrong.

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Not even old age knows how to love death.

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For the wretched one night is like a thousand; for someone faring well death is just one more night.

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Wisdom is the supreme part of happiness.

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Whoever lives among many evils just as I, how can dying not be a source of gain?

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Men of ill judgment ignore the good that lies within their hands, till they have lost it.

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A day lays low and lifts up again all human things.

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Each say following another, either hastening or putting off our death—what pleasure does it bring? I count that man worthless who is cheered...

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Much speech is one thing, well-timed speech is another.

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Trust dies but mistrust blossoms.

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It is best to live however one can be.

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It was my care to make my life illustrious not by words more than by deeds.

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I see that all of us who live are nothing but images or insubstantial shadow.

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Our happiness depends on wisdom all the way.

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Money is the worst currency that ever grew among mankind. This sacks cities, this drives men from their homes, this teaches and corrupts the worthiest minds to turn base deeds.

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To be doing good deeds is man's most glorious task.

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Those whose life is long still strive for gain, and for all mortals all things take second place to money.

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Wonders are many, and none is more wonderful than man; the power that crosses the white sea, driven by the stormy wind, making a path under surges that threaten to engulf him...

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For money, you would sell your soul.

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No speech can stain what is noble by nature.

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