Each Man Has His Fancy.

Your Knowing A Thing Is Nothing, Unless Another Knows You Know It.

Lives There The Man With Soul So Dead As To Disown The Wish To Merit The People's Applause, And Having Uttered Words Worthy To Be Kept In Cedar Oil To Latest Times, To Leave Behind Him Rhymes That Dread Neither Herrings Nor Frankincense.

He Conquers Who Endures.

Quantum Est In Rebus Inane! How Much Folly There Is In Human Affairs.

I Know You Even Under The Skin.