The Pupil Will Eclipse His Tutor, I

No One Rejoices More In Revenge Than Woman.

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. [lat., Festinat Enim Decurrere Velox Flosculus Angustae Miseraeque Brevissima Vitae Portico; Dum Bibimus Dum Sera Unguenta Puellas Poscimus Obrepit Non Intellecta Senectus.]

Now We Suffer The Evils Of A Long Peace; Luxury More Cruel Than War Broods Over Us And Avenges A Conquered World.

It Is A Wretched Thing To Rest Upon The Fame Of Others, Lest, The Supporting Pillar Being Removed, The Superstructure Should Collapse In Ruin.

Of What Avail Are Pedigrees?