The Arcadians Were Chestnut-eaters.

One That Hath Wine As A Chain About His Wits, Such A One Lives No Life At All.

To Be Bowed By Grief Is Folly; Naught Is Gained By Melancholy; Better Than The Pain Of Thinking, Is To Steep The Sense In Drinking.

Not Well-built Walls, But Brave Citizens Are The Bulwark Of The City.

Tis Said That Wrath Is The Last Thing In A Man To Grow Old.

Fighting Men Are The City's Fortress.