Nature Confesses That She Has Bestowed On

Let Me Moderate Our Sorrows. The Grief Of A Man Should Not Exceed Proper Bounds, But Be In Proportion To The Blow He Has Received. [lat., Ponamus Nimios Gemitus: Flagrantior Aequo Non Debet Dolor Esse Viri, Nec Vulnere Major.]

One Globe Seemed All Too Small For The Youthful Alexander.

Those Who Do Not Wish To Kill Any One, Wish They Had The Power. [lat., Et Qui Nolunt Occidere Quemquam Posse Volunt.]

Satire Is What Closes Saturday Night.

The Sicilian Tyrants Never Devised A Greater Punishment Than Envy.