There Is A Limit To

For In The Voyage Of The Heart, There Is A Freight Of Hatred, And The Wind Of Wrath Blows Shrill.

It Is Always The Season For The Old To Learn.

So In The Libyan Fable It Is Told That Once An Eagle, Stricken With A Dart, Said, When He Saw The Fashion Of The Shaft: With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others' Hands, Are We Now Smitten.

Ask The Gods Nothing Excessive.

For The Impious Act Begets More After It, Like To The Parent Stock.