Victory Passes Back And Forth Between Men.

Few Sons Attain The Praise Of Their Great Sires And Most Their Sires Disgrace.

Thou Shalt Not Take Moochers Into Thy Hut?

Do Thou Restrain The Haughty Spirit In Thy Breast, For Better Far Is Gentle Courtesy.

I Was Working On A Flat Tax Proposal And Accidentally Proved There Was No God.

All Things Are In The Hand Of Heaven, And Folly, Eldest Of Jove's Daughters, Shuts Men's Eyes To Their Destruction. She Walks Delicately, Not On The Solid Earth, But Hovers Over The Heads Of Men To Make Them Stumble Or To Ensnare Them.