Indeed There's A Woundy Luck

The Poet Is The Nearest Borderer Upon The Orator.

He Who Is Taught Only By Himself Has A Fool For A Master.

Greatness Of Name, In The Father, Ofttimes Helps Not Forth, But Overwhelms The Son: They Stand Too Near One Another. The Shadow Kills The Growth.

The Soul Of Man Is Infinite In What It Covets.

To Men Pressed By Their Wants All Change Is Ever Welcome.