The Farce Is Finished. I Go To

But Where Are The Snows Of Last Year? That Was The Greatest Concern Of Villon, The Parisian Poet.

We Always Long For The Forbidden Things, And Desire What Is Denied Us.

Friends, You Will Notice That In This World There Are Many More Ballocks Than Men. Remember This.

Row On [whatever Happens]. [lat., Vogue La Galere.]

I Owe Much; I Have Nothing; The Rest I Leave To The Poor.