Oh, What A Void There Is In

Quantum Est In Rebus Inane! How Much Folly There Is In Human Affairs.

He Conquers Who Endures.

But When To-morrow Comes, Yesterday's Morrow Will Have Been Already Spent: And Lo! A Fresh Morrow Will Be For Ever Making Away With Our Years, Each Just Beyond Our Grasp.

Let Them (the Wicked) See The Beauty Of Virtue, And Pine At Having Forsaken Her. [lat., Virtutem Videant, Intabescantque Relicta.]

The Stomach Is The Teacher Of The Arts And The Dispenser Of Invention.