In The Master There Is A Servant,

Memory Is The Receptacle And Sheath Of All Knowledge

I Hate All Children Of Precocious Talent.

Laws Are Silent In Time Of War.

Softly! Softly! I Want None But The Judges To Hear Me. The Jews Have Already Gotten Me Into A Fine Mess, As They Have Many Other Gentleman. I Have No Desire To Furnish Further Grist For Their Mills.

The Remembrance Of Past Misery Is Sweet.