So the writer who breeds more words than he needs$$$ is making a chore for the reader who reads.

He who has injured thee was either stronger or weaker than thee. If weaker$$$ spare him; if stronger$$$ spare thyself.

Wealth is the slave of a wise man. The master of a fool.

If you live in harmony with nature you will never be poor; if you live according what others think$$$ you will never be rich.

You act like mortals in all that you fear$$$ and like immortals in all that you desire.

If the seventies were bulbous$$$ and the eighties sharp$$$ the nineties were nothing but bogus.

It is not the man who has too little$$$ but the man who craves more$$$ that is poor.

Wish I didn't know now what I didn't know then.

A person doesn't consciously choose what he focuses on. Those things choose you$$$ and$$$ once they do$$$ nothing$$$ it seems$$$ can shake them.

I hoped our lives would continue this way forever$$$ but inevitably the past came knocking. Not the good kind that was collectible but the bad kind that had arthritis.