No Man Ever Became Very Wicked All

Every Man's Credit Is Proportioned To The Money Which He Has In His Chest. [lat., Quantum Quisque Sua Nummorum Condit In Area, Tantum Habet Et Fidei.]

Trust Me No Tortures Which The Poets Feign Can Match The Fierce Unutterable Pain He Feels, Who Night And Day Devoid Of Rest Carries His Own Accuser In His Breast.

Generally, Common Sense Is Rare In The (higher) Rank.

No One Becomes Depraved All At Once.

To Eat At Another's Table Is Your Ambition's Height. [lat., Bona Summa Putes, Aliena Vivere Quadra.]