The Real Friend Is Another Self.

It Is Foolish To Pluck Out One's Hair For Sorrow, As If Grief Could Be Assuaged By Baldness.

No Poet Or Orator Has Ever Existed Who Believed There Was Any Better Than Himself.

Hmm... That's Like Telling You About The Cold Of Space, Or Terror Of Midnight. Sithis Is All Those Things. He Is... The Void.

When You Are Aspiring To The Highest Place, It Is Honorable To Reach The Second Or Even The Third Rank.

Rashness Attends Youth, As Prudence Does Old Age.