That City In Which Those Who Are

Rich People Without Wisdom And Learning Are But Sheep With Golden Fleeces.

The Ideal State Is That In Which An Injury Done To The Least Of Its Citizens Is An Injury Done To All.

As The Deity Has Given Us Greeks All Other Blessings In Moderation, So Our Moderation Gives Us A Kind Of Wisdom Which Is Timid, In All Likelihood, And Fit For Common People, Not One Which Is Kingly And Splendid. This Wisdom, Such As It Is, Observing That Human Life Is Ever Subject To All Sorts Of Vicissitudes, Forbids Us To Be Puffed Up By The Good Things We Have, Or To Admire A Man's Felicity While There Is Still Time For It To Change.

An Unlucky Rich Man Is More Capable Of Satisfying His Desires And Of Riding Out Disaster When It Strikes, But A Lucky Man Is Better Off Than Him...he Is The One Who Deserves To Be Described As Happy. But Until He Is Dead, You Had Better Refrain From Calling Him Happy, And Just Call Him Fortunate.

Often The Wicked Prosper, While The Righteous Starve; Yet I Would Never Exchange My State For Theirs, My Virtue For Their Gold. For Mine Endures, While Riches Change Their Owner Every Day.