Autumn Is The Harvest Of Greedy Death.

Let The Straight-limbed Laugh At The Club-footed, The White Skinned At The Blackamoor.

Vice Deceives Us When Dressed In The Garb Of Virtue.

Every Great House Is Full Of Haughty Servants.

A Third Heir Seldom Enjoys What Has Been Dishonestly Acquired.

They Whose Sole Bliss Is Eating Can Give But That One Brutish Reason Why They Live.