Satire Is What Closes Saturday

One Gets A Cross For His Crime, The Other A Crown.

The Traveller With Empty Pockets Will Sing In The Thief 's Face.

The Only Path To A Tranquil Life Is Through Virtue. [lat., Semita Certe Tranquillae Per Virtutem Patet Unica Vitae.]

The Noiseless Foot Of Tune Steals Swiftly By And Ere We Dream Of Manhood, Age Is Nigh.

When Your Armour Is On, It Is Too Late To Retreat.