Seldom Indeed Does Human Virtue Rise From

Reason Flies When Following The Senses, On Clipped Wings.

Art, As Far As It Is Able, Follows Nature, As A Pupil Imitates His Master; Thus Your Art Must Be, As It Were, God's Grandchild.

There Is No Greater Pain Than To Remember, In Our Present Grief, Past Happiness.

Here Pity Only Lives When It Is Dead - Virgil

Be As A Tower Firmly Set; Shakes Not Its Top For Any Blast That Blows.