The Pupil Will Eclipse His Tutor, I

Writing In The Incurable Itch That Possesses Many.

They Whose Sole Bliss Is Eating Can Give But That One Brutish Reason Why They Live.

Peace Visits Not The Guilty Mind.

I Will Have This Done, So I Order It Done; Let My Will Replace Reasoned Judgement.

The Short Bloom Of Our Brief And Narrow Life Flies Fast Away. While We Are Calling For Flowers And Wine And Women, Old Age Is Upon Us.