Secret Guilt By Silence Is Betrayed.

Time Glides With Undiscover'd Haste; The Future But A Length Behind The Past.

All Empire Is No More Than Power In Trust.

Learn To Write Well, Or Not To Write At All.

Beauty, Like Ice, Our Footing Does Betray; Who Can Tread Sure On The Smooth, Slippery Way: Pleased With The Surface, We Glide Swiftly On, And See The Dangers That We Cannot Shun.

The True Amphitryon Is The Amphitryon Where We Dine.