Times Change. The Vices Of Your Age

Ye Children Of Man! Whose Life Is A Span, Protracted With Sorrow From Day To Day, Naked And Featherless, Feeble And Querulous, Sickly, Calamitous Creatures Of Clay!

This Is What Extremely Grieves Us, That A Man Who Never Fought Should Contrive Our Fees To Pilfer, On Who For His Native Land Never To This Day Had Oar, Or Lance, Or Blister In His Hand.

There's No Art Where There's No Fee.

When Men Drink, Then They Are Rich And Successful And Win Lawsuits And Are Happy And Help Their Friends. Quickly, Bring Me A Beaker Of Wine, So That I May Wet My Mind And Say Something Clever.

An Insult Directed At The Wicked Is Not To Be Censured; On The Contrary, The Honest Man, If He Has Sense, Can Only Applaud.