He Is A Friend Who, In Dubious

In Grasping At Uncertainties We Lost That Which Is Certain.

Bad Conduct Soils The Finest Ornament More Than Filth.

I Suspect That Hunger Was My Mother.

To Blow And To Swallow At The Same Time Is Not Easy; I Cannot At The Same Time Be Here And Also There. [lat., Simul Flare Sorbereque Haud Facile Est: Ego Hic Esse Et Illic Simul, Haud Potui.]

Besides That, When Elsewhere The Harvest Of Wheat Is Most Abundant, There It Comes Up Less By One-fourth Than What You Have Sowed. There, Methinks, It Were A Proper Place For Men To Sow Their Wild Oats, Where They Would Not Spring Up.