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History is largely the glorification of the iniquities of the triumphant.

In the annals of sheep the wolves are always defeated and disgraced.

The beauty of the tiger's skin does not lessen the sharpness of his teeth.

The small streams of gossip poured into the ears emerge as mighty cataracts out of the mouths.

We hate the hypocrite more keenly than the mere liar because the hypocrite adds to his lie the lacquer of flattery, which we are gullible enough to accept as tribute to our merit.

The older the prejudice, the hardier. Some are perennials.

We cannot make a tiger eat grass by removing his teeth or turn a lamb into a bull by tying horns onto his head.

The jackass brays mightily but the forest does not tremble. The tiger's paw barely presses the fallen leaf, and all rush for shelter.

Empty barrels make the loudest noises, but the full ones silently crush one's toes.


Every goose is certain she could lay golden eggs if only properly fed.

We free ourselves from the womb, but there is no knife sharp enough to cut the umbilical cord which binds us to our grave.


Jealousy would be far less torturous if we understood that love is a passion entirely unrelated to our merits.

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