They Do Not Easily Rise Whose Abilities

Nobody Ever Became Depraved All At Once. [lat., Nemo Repente Fuit Turpissimus.]

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.

Nature, In Giving Tears To Man, Confessed That He Had A Tender Heart; This Is Our Noblest Quality.

The Noiseless Foot Of Tune Steals Swiftly By And Ere We Dream Of Manhood, Age Is Nigh.

An Excess Of Hoarded Wealth Is The Death Of Many.