The Poor Are The Blacks Of Europe.

Living Is A Sickness To Which Sleep Provides Relief Every Sixteen Hours. It's A Palliative. The Remedy Is Death.

Marriage Follows On Love As Smoke On Flame.

Vain Is Equivalent To Empty; Thus Vanity Is So Miserable A Thing, That One Cannot Give It A Worse Name Than Its Own. It Proclaims Itself For What It Is.

The Majority Of The Books Of Our Time Give One The Impression Of Having Been Manufactured In A Day Out Of Books Read The Day Before.

There Aren't Many Benefactors Who Don't Say, Like Satan: All These Things Will I Give You If You Bow Down And Worship Me.