The Art Of War Is Like The

Perugia Is My True Fatherland Because There I Grew To Manhood.

Poetry Is A Whim Of Nature In Her Lighter Moods; It Requires Nothing But Its Own Madness And, Lacking That, It Becomes A Soundless Cymbal, A Belfry Without A Bell.

Learning Is The Property Of Those Who Fear To Do Disagreeable Things.

Flattery And Deceit Are The Darlings Of Great Men, And So With These Men Spread The Butter On Thick, If You Want To Get Something Out Of Them, Otherwise You'll Come Home To Me With A Full Belly And An Empty Purse.

Why Should The Eyes Be Denied What Delights Them Most?