When Men Drink Wine They Are Rich,

Children Have A Master To Teach Them, Grown-ups Have The Poets.

It Often Happens That Less Depends Upon The Valor Of An Army Than The Skill Of The Leader.

By Words The Mind Is Winged.

This Is What Extremely Grieves Us, That A Man Who Never Fought Should Contrive Our Fees To Pilfer, On Who For His Native Land Never To This Day Had Oar, Or Lance, Or Blister In His Hand.

Weak Mortals, Chained To The Earth, Creatures Of Clay As Frail As The Foliage Of The Woods, You Unfortunate Race, Whose Life Is But Darkness, As Unreal As A Shadow, The Illusion Of A Dream.