Truly Upon Mortals Cometh Swift Of Foot

For There Is No Defense For A Man Who, In The Excess Of His Wealth, Has Kicked The Great Altar Of Justice Out Of Sight.

Alas, Poor Men, Their Destiny. When All Goes Well A Shadow Will Overthrow It. If It Be Unkind One Stroke Of A Wet Sponge Wipes All The Picture Out.

A Man Dies Not For The Many Wounds That Pierce His Breast, Unless It Be That Life's End Keep Pace With Death, Nor By Sitting On His Hearth At Home Doth He The More Escape His Appointed Doom.

The Reward Of Pain Is Experience.

Honor Modesty More Than Your Life.