The Face Of Tyranny Is Always Mild

It Is A Maxim Of Old That Among Themselves All Things Are Common To Friends.

By Dying I Wanted To Maintain My Honor, And Hide A Flame So Black From The Daylight!

Wrinkles On The Brow Are The Imprints Of Exploits.

Crime, Like Virtue, Has Its Degrees.

He Who Laughs On Friday Will Weep On Sunday.