The Greatest Hardship Of Poverty Is That

To Lay Down One's Life For The Truth.

The Short Bloom Of Our Brief And Narrow Life Flies Fast Away. While We Are Calling For Flowers And Wine And Women, Old Age Is Upon Us. [lat., Festinat Enim Decurrere Velox Flosculus Angustae Miseraeque Brevissima Vitae Portico; Dum Bibimus Dum Sera Unguenta Puellas Poscimus Obrepit Non Intellecta Senectus.]

The Only Gain From The Friendship Of The Great Is A Fine Dinner.

An Undying Hatred, And A Wound Never To Be Healed.

For Women's Tears Are But The Sweat Of Eyes.