Shame Is No Comrade For The Poor,

And By The Sacred Parchment, I Swear That If I Reveal The Secrets Of The Stonecutters, May My Stomach Become Bloated And My Head Be Plucked Of All But Three Hairs

It Was Built Against The Will Of The Immortal Gods, And So It Did Not Last For Long.

All Men Owe Honor To The Poets - Honor And Awe; For They Are Dearest To The Muse Who Puts Upon Their Lips The Ways Of Life.

Thou Shalt Not Horn In On Thy Husbands Racket

After The Event, Even A Fool Is Wise.