A good guitarist will play on one string.
Become famous, then go to sleep.
Better a devil you know than a hundred strangers.
For our sins god has created three enemies for us: mice in the house, the fox in the mountains, and a priest in our village.
God writes on crooked lines.
He who lives on illusions, dies of disillusion.
He who prays a lot is afraid of something.
Hens perched on top will shit on those below.
If you are going to die you will die in the dark even if you have been in the candle business.
Laughing wife, crying purse.
Light in the streets, shadows in the house.
None of us knows who we are.
Old debts are never paid, and the new ones get old easily.
Old love and wood will burn as soon as they get the chance.
Such is the fate of the sheep: either shorn or roasted.
Widows weep but they look for another husband.
