Malicious Tongues Spread Their Poison

Then Worms Shall Try That Long Preserved Virginity, And Your Quaint Honor Turn To Dust, And Into Ashes All My Lust. The Grave's A Fine And Private Place But None, I Think, Do There Embrace.

Long Is The Road From Conception To Completion.

In Society One Needs A Flexible Virtue; Too Much Goodness Can Be Blamable.

Malicious Men May Die, But Malice Never.

Writing Is Like Prostitution. First You Do It For Love, And Then For A Few Close Friends, And Then For Money.