A Crier Of Green Sauce.

How Comes It That You Curse, Frere Jean? It's Only, Said The Monk, In Order To Embellish My Language. They Are The Colors Of Ciceronian Rhetoric.

We Always Long For The Forbidden Things, And Desire What Is Denied Us.

Languages Exist By Arbitrary Institutions And Conventions Among Peoples; Words, As The Dialecticians Tell Us, Do Not Signify Naturally, But At Our Pleasure.

If You Understand Why A Monkey In A Family Is Always Mocked And Harassed, You Understand Why Monks Are Rejected By All--both Old And Young.

I Won't Undertake War Until I Have Tried All The Arts And Means Of Peace.