Every Great House Is Full Of Haughty

The Finishing Stroke Of All Sorrow.

An Incurable Itch For Scribbling Takes Possession Of Many, And Grows Inveterate In Their Insane Breasts.

Fond Man! Though All The Heroes Of Your Line Bedeck Your Halls, And Round Your Galleries Shine In Proud Display; Yet Take This Truth From Me-- Virtue Alone Is True Nobility!

Every Crime Will Bring Remorse To The Man Who Committed It

Two Things Only The People Actually Desire: Bread And Circuses.