There's No Art Where There's No Fee.

I Would Treat Her Like An Egg, The Shell Of Which We Remove Before Eating It; I Would Take Off Her Mask And Then Kiss Her Pretty Face.

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

An Ancient Tradition Declares That Every Idiot Blunder We Pass Into Law Will Sooner Or Later Redound To Athens' Profit.

By Words The Mind Is Winged.

Old Age Is But A Second Childhood.