A knot can often be untied by daylight
Abandon to the young the things we ourselves used most to enjoy
Ancient custom, to have her ears cut off
Caught the infection and had to laugh whether she would or no
Gave them a claim on your person and also on your sorrows
Hatred and love are the opposite ends of the same rod
He was made to be plundered
How could they find so much pleasure in such folly
In whom some good quality or other may not be discovered
Life is not a banquet
Life is a function, a ministry, a duty
Love has two faces: tender devotion and bitter aversion
Of two evils it is wise to choose the lesser
Old age no longer forgets; it is youth that has a short memory
Prepared for the worst; then you are armed against failure
Sea-port was connected with Medina by a pigeon-post
Self-interest and egoism which drive him into the cave
So hard is it to forego the right of hating
Spoilt to begin with by their mothers, and then all the women
Talk of the wolf and you see his tail
Temples of the old gods were used as quarries
The man who avoids his kind and lives in solitude
Thin-skinned, like all up-starts in authority
Those who will not listen must feel
Use their physical helplessness as a defence
Who can hope to win love that gives none
Who can take pleasure in always seeing a gloomy face?
Women are indeed the rock ahead in this young fellow's life
You have a habit of only looking backwards
A THORNY PATH
By Georg Ebers
Volume 1.
CHAPTER I.
The green screen slowly rose, covering the lower portion of the broad studio window where Heron, the gem-cutter, was at work. It was Melissa, the artist's daughter, who had pulled it up, with bended knees and outstretched arms, panting for breath.
"That is enough!" cried her father's impatient voice. He glanced up at the flood of light which the blinding sun of Alexandria was pouring into the room, as it did every autumn afternoon; but as soon as the shadow fell on his work-table the old man's busy fingers were at work again, and he heeded his daughter no more.
An hour later Melissa again, and without any bidding, pulled up the screen as before, but it was so much too heavy for her that the effort brought the blood into her calm, fair face, as the deep, rough "That is enough" was again heard from the work-table.
Then silence reigned once more. Only the artist's low whistling as he worked, or the patter and pipe of the birds in their cages by the window, broke the stillness of the spacious room, till the voice and step of a man were presently heard in the anteroom.
Heron laid by his graver and Melissa her gold embroidery, and the eyes of father and daughter met for the first time for some hours. The very birds seemed excited, and a starling, which had sat moping since the screen had shut the sun out, now cried out, "Olympias!" Melissa rose, and after a swift glance round the room she went to the door, come who might.