Oh, What A Void There Is In

And Don't Consult Anyone's Opinions But Your Own.

Thou Art Moist And Soft Clay; Thou Must Instantly Be Shaped By The Glowing Wheel. [lat., Udum Et Molle Lutum Es: Nunc, Nunc Properandus Et Acri Fingendus Sine Fine Rota.]

You Follow Words Of The Toga (language Of The Cultivated Class). [lat., Verba Togae Sequeris.]

Lives There The Man With Soul So Dead As To Disown The Wish To Merit The People's Applause, And Having Uttered Words Worthy To Be Kept In Cedar Oil To Latest Times, To Leave Behind Him Rhymes That Dread Neither Herrings Nor Frankincense.

Quantum Est In Rebus Inane! How Much Folly There Is In Human Affairs.