Every Great House Is Full Of Haughty

All Arts His Own, The Hungry Greekling Counts; And Bid Him Mount The Skies, The Skies He Mounts.

In Their Palate Alone Is Their Reason Of Existence. [lat., In Solo Vivendi Causa Palata Est.]

It Is Sheer Folly When All Is Gone To Lose Even One's Passage Money.

Trust Me No Tortures Which The Poets Feign Can Match The Fierce Unutterable Pain He Feels, Who Night And Day Devoid Of Rest Carries His Own Accuser In His Breast.

The Greatest Reverence Is Due To A Child! If You Are Contemplating A Disgraceful Act, Despise Not Your Child's Tender Years.