The Truth Is Forced Upon Us, Very

To Plunder, To Lie, To Show Your Arse, Are Three Essentials For Climbing High.

Weak Mortals, Chained To The Earth, Creatures Of Clay As Frail As The Foliage Of The Woods, You Unfortunate Race, Whose Life Is But Darkness, As Unreal As A Shadow, The Illusion Of A Dream.

To Invoke Solely The Weaker Arguments And Yet Triumph Is An Art Worth More Than A Hundred Thousand Drachmae.

A Truce To Idle Phrases!

It Is Right That The Good Should Be Happy, That The Wicked And The Impious On The Other Hand, Should Be Miserable; That Is A Truth, I Believe, Which No One Will Gainsay.