The Belly Is The Giver Of Genius.

Confined To Common Life Thy Numbers Flow, And Neither Soar Too High Nor Sink Too Low; There Strength And Ease In Graceful Union Meet, Though Polished, Subtle, And Though Poignant, Sweet; Yet Powerful To Abash The From Of Crime And Crimson Error's Cheek With Sportive Rhyme. [lat., Verba Togae Sequeris, Junctura Callidus Acri, Ore Teres Modico, Pallentes Radere Mores Doctus, Et Ingenuo Culpam Defigere Ludo.]

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.

Lives There The Man With Soul So Dead As To Disown The Wish To Merit The People's Applause, And Having Uttered Words Worthy To Be Kept In Cedar Oil To Latest Times, To Leave Behind Him Rhymes That Dread Neither Herrings Nor Frankincense.

O Natal Star, Thou Producest Twins Of Widely Different Character. [lat., Geminos, Horoscope, Varo Producis Genio.]

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.]