There Is Great Unanimity Among The Dissolute.

Revenge Is Sweeter Than Life Itself. So Think Fools.

Make All Fair Allowance For The Mistakes Of Youth.

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.

Of What Use Are Pedigrees, Or To Be Thought Of Noble Blood, Or The Display Of Family Portraits, O Ponticus?

A Lucky Man Is Rarer Than A White Crow.