Our Civilization Depends Largely On Paper.

Lust Is An Enemy To The Purse, A Foe To The Person, A Canker To The Mind, A Corrosive To The Conscience, A Weakness Of The Wit, A Besotter Of The Senses, And Finally, A Mortal Bane To All The Body.

In Wine, There's Truth.

Wine Maketh The Band Quivering, The Eye Watery, The Night Unquiet, Lewd Dreams, A Stinking Breath In The Morning, And An Utter Forgetfulness Of All Things.

Chance Is A Second Master.

The Lust Of Avarice As So Totally Seized Upon Mankind That Their Wealth Seems Rather To Possess Them Than They Possess Their Wealth.