Those Things Please More, Which

So Much Greater Is Our Thirst For Glory Than For Virtue.

Quis Custodiet Ipsos Custodes? - Who Will Watch The Watchers?

A Hairy Body, And Arms Stiff With Bristles, Give Promise Of A Manly Soul.

The Smell Of Profit Is Clean And Sweet, Whatever The Source.

All Arts His Own, The Hungry Greekling Counts; And Bid Him Mount The Skies, The Skies He Mounts.