Spare Your Breath To Cool Your Porridge.

The Ass Bears The Load, But Not The Overload.

Oh Senor" Said The Niece. "your Grace Should Send Them To Be Burned (books), Just Like All The Rest, Because It's Very Likely That My Dear Uncle, Having Been Cured Of The Chivalric Disease, Will Read These And Want To Become A Shepherd And Wander Through The Woods And Meadows Singing And Playing And, What Would Be Even Worse, Become A Poet, And That, They Say, Is An Incurable And Contagious Disease.

Truly I Was Born To Be An Example Of Misfortune, And A Target At Which The Arrows Of Adversary Are Aimed.

What Man Can Pretend To Know The Riddle Of A Woman's Mind?

Alas! All Music Jars When The Soul's Out Of Tune.