A Man Who Has Nothing Can Whistle

Of What Use Are Pedigrees, Or To Be Thought Of Noble Blood, Or The Display Of Family Portraits, O Ponticus?

This Is My Wish, This Is My Command, My Pleasure Is My Reason

Sit Mens Sana In Corpore Sano (a Healthy Mind In A Healthy Body)

The Short Bloom Of Our Brief And Narrow Life Flies Fast Away. While We Are Calling For Flowers And Wine And Women, Old Age Is Upon Us. [lat., Festinat Enim Decurrere Velox Flosculus Angustae Miseraeque Brevissima Vitae Portico; Dum Bibimus Dum Sera Unguenta Puellas Poscimus Obrepit Non Intellecta Senectus.]

Remorse Is The Fruit Of Crime.