The Old Are In A Second Childhood.

Chorus Of Women: [...] Oh! My Good, Gallant Lysistrata, And All My Friends, Be Ever Like A Bundle Of Nettles; Never Let You Anger Slacken; The Wind Of Fortune Blown Our Way.

Under Every Stone Lurks A Politician.

These Impossible Women! How They Do Get Around Us! The Poet Was Right: Can't Live With Them, Or Without Them!

Let Each Man Exercise The Art He Knows.

Does It Seem That Everything Is Extravagance In The World, Or Rather Madness, When You Watch The Way Things Go? A Crowd Of Rogues Enjoy Blessings They Have Won By Sheer Injustice, While More Honest Folks Are Miserable And Die Of Hunger.