Whatever Is, Is In Its Causes Just.

Much Malice Mingled With A Little Wit Perhaps May Censure This Mysterious Writ.

When Misfortune Is Asleep, Let No One Wake Her.

Satire Among The Romans, But Not Among The Greeks, Was A Bitter Invective Poem.

Kings Fight For Empires, Madmen For Applause.

Happy The Man, And Happy He Alone, He Who Can Call Today His Own; He Who, Secure Within, Can Say, Tomorrow Do Thy Worst, For I Have Lived Today.