Revenge, We Find, The Abject Pleasure Of

Trust Me No Tortures Which The Poets Feign Can Match The Fierce Unutterable Pain He Feels, Who Night And Day Devoid Of Rest Carries His Own Accuser In His Breast.

To Eat At Another's Table Is Your Ambition's Height. [lat., Bona Summa Putes, Aliena Vivere Quadra.]

When Did Reason Ever Direct Our Desires Or Our Fears?

Rarely They Rise By Virtue's Aid Who Lie Plunged In The Depth Of Helpless Poverty.

The Doings Of Men, Their Prayers, Fear, Wrath, Pleasure, Delights, And Recreations, Are The Subject Of This Book.