The Darts Of Love Are Blunted By

Pray, Look Better, Sir... Those Things Yonder Are No Giants, But Windmills.

We Ought To Love Our Maker For His Own Sake, Without Either Hope Of Good Or Fear Of Pain.

The Wounds Received In Battle Bestow Honor, They Do Not Take It Away.

Be Temperate In Your Drinking, Remembering That Too Much Wine Cannot Keep Either A Secret Or A Promise.

Whether The Pitcher Hits The Stone Or The Stone Hits The Pitcher, It Goes Ill With The Pitcher.