Thou Shalt Not Take Moochers Into Thy

Jove Lifts The Golden Balances That Show The Fates Of Mortal Men, And Things Below.

Few Sons Are Like Their Fathers - Many Are Worse, Few Better.

How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The Ground, Stepping A-tiptoe On The Heads Of Men.

Why So Much Grief For Me? No Man Will Hurl Me Down To Death, Against My Fate. And Fate? No One Alive Has Ever Escaped It, Neither Brave Man Nor Coward, I Tell You - It’s Born With Us The Day That We Are Born.

The Single Best Augury Is To Fight For One's Country.