True Melancholy Breeds Your Perfect Fine Wit.

I Glory, More In The Cunning Purchase Of My Wealth Than In The Glad Possession.

Whosoever Loves Not Picture Is Injurious To Truth, And All The Wisdom Of Poetry. Picture Is The Invention Of Heaven, The Most Ancient And Most Akin To Nature. It Is Itself A Silent Work, And Always One And The Same Habit.

The Way To Rise Is To Obey And Please.

Indeed There's A Woundy Luck In Names.

Many Punishments Sometimes, And In Some Cases, As Much Discredit A Prince As Many Funerals A Physician.