Honor and shame from no condition rise. Act well your part: there all the honor lies.

Time wounds all heels.

Time wounds all heels.

All limitations are self-imposed.

It is harsh enough for each man to bear his own wound. But he who leads bears the wounds of all who follow him.

The greatest griefs are those we cause ourselves.

Wounds sustained for the sake of conscience carry their own balsam with the blow.

We all have a secret wound which we are fighting to avenge.

As the eagle was killed by the arrow winged with his own feather, so the hand of the world is wounded by its own skill.

When wealth and honours lead to arrogancy, this brings its evil on itself.

Love is the bane of honor, the death of duty. What is honor compared to a woman's love? What is duty against the feel of a newborn son in your arms ... or the memory of a brother's smile? Wind and words. Wind and words. We are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love. That is our great glory, and our great tragedy.

for that which is a disgrace to human nature, throws something of a shade over all the human character, and each individual feels his share of the wound that is given to the whole.

The keenest sorrow is to recognize ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.

The wounds received in battle bestow honor, they do not take it away...