In Short, Luck's Always To Blame.

A Mountain In Labour Shouted So Loud That Everyone, Summoned By The Noise, Ran Up Expecting That She Would Be Delivered Of A City Bigger Than Paris; She Brought Forth A Mouse.

We Ought To Consider The End In Everything.

Sensible People Find Nothing Useless.

Imitators Are A Slavish Herd And Fools In My Opinion.

It Is Good To Be Charitable; But To Whom? That Is The Point. As To The Ungrateful, There Is Not One Who Does Not At Last Die Miserable.