Death Submits To No One.

A Councilor Ought Not To Sleep The Whole Night Through, A Man To Whom The Populace Is Entrusted, And Who Has Many Responsibilities.

To Labour Is The Lot Of Man Below; And When Jove Gave Us Life, He Gave Us Woe.

Nothing Shall I, While Sane, Compare With A Friend.

[i]t Is The Wine That Leads Me On, The Wild Wine That Sets The Wisest Man To Sing At The Top Of His Lungs, Laugh Like A Fool – It Drives The Man To Dancing... It Even Tempts Him To Blurt Out Stories Better Never Told.

Restrain Yourself... And Gloat In Silence. I'll Have No Jubilation Here. It Is An Impious Thing To Exult Over The Slain.