There is no pity for a man who moans about living in one town and does not move to another.

Every blade of grass has its angel that bends over it and whispers, 'Grow, grow.'

If one man says to thee, ''Thou art a donkey',' pay no heed. If two speak thus, purchase a saddle.

When a man has pity on all living creatures then only is he noble.

The day is short, the labor long, the workers are idle, and reward is great, and the Master is urgent

He who promises runs in debt