Please Not Thyself The Flattering Crowd To

Please Not Thyself The Flattering Crowd To Hear; 'tis Fulsome Stuff, To Please Thy Itching Ear. Survey Thy Soul, Not What Thou Does Appear, But What Thou Art.

Bad Advice Is Often Most Fatal To The Adviser.

But When To-morrow Comes, Yesterday's Morrow Will Have Been Already Spent: And Lo! A Fresh Morrow Will Be For Ever Making Away With Our Years, Each Just Beyond Our Grasp.

You Follow Words Of The Toga (language Of The Cultivated Class). [lat., Verba Togae Sequeris.]

Thou Art Moist And Soft Clay; Thou Must Instantly Be Shaped By The Glowing Wheel. [lat., Udum Et Molle Lutum Es: Nunc, Nunc Properandus Et Acri Fingendus Sine Fine Rota.]