Between Two Stools One Sits On The

Don't Limp In Front Of The Lame.

But Where Are The Snows Of Last Year? That Was The Greatest Concern Of Villon, The Parisian Poet.

Death Is The Vast Perhaps.

There Are More Old Drunkards Than Old Physicians.

Believe Me, 'tis A Godlike Thing To Lend; To Owe Is A Heroic Virtue.