It Is Bad Taste For A Poet

A Fox Is Subtlety Itself.

The Gods, My Dear Simple Fellow, Are A Mere Expression Coined By Vulgar Superstition. We Frown Upon Such Coinage Here.

When The Soldier Returns From The Wars, Even Though He Has White Hair, He Very Soon Finds A Young Wife. But A Woman Has Only One Summer; If She Does Not Make Hay While The Sun Shines, No One Will Afterwards Have Anything To Say To Her, And She Spends Her Days Consulting Oracles That Never Send Her A Husband.

Do Not Bandy Words With Your Father, Nor Treat Him As A Dotard, Nor Reproach The Old Man, Who Has Cherished You, With His Age.

Today Things Are Better Than Yesterday.