The Ideal State Is That In Which

Call No Man Happy Until He Is Dead.

Speech Is The Mirror Of Action.

If Through Your Vices You Afflicted Are, Lay Not The Blame Of Your Distress On God; You Made Your Rulers Mighty, Gave Them Guards, So Now You Groan 'neath Slavery's Heavy Rod.

Laws Are Like Spider's Webs: If Some Poor Weak Creature Comes Up Against Them, It Is Caught; But A Big One Can Break Through And Get Away.

Watch Well Each Separate Citizen, Lest Having In His Heart Of Hearts A Secret Spear, One Still May Come Saluting You With Cheerful Face, And Utter With A Double Tongue The Feigned Good Wishes Of His Wary Mind.