Falsehood Is For A Season.

Cruelty In All Countries Is The Companion Of Anger; But There Is Only One, And Never Was Another On The Globe, Where She Coquets Both With Anger And Mirth.

The Vain Poet Is Of The Opinion That Nothing Of His Can Be Too Much: He Sends To You Basketful After Basketful Of Juiceless Fruit, Covered With Scentless Flowers.

A Good Cook Is The Peculiar Gift Of The Gods. He Must Be A Perfect Creature From The Brain To The Palate, From The Palate To The Finger's End.

Friendship Is A Vase, Which, When It Is Flawed By Heat, Or Violence, Or Accident, May As Well Be Broken At Once; It Can Never Be Trusted After.

A True Philosopher Is Beyond The Reach Of Fortune.