I care for riches, to make gifts To friends, or lead a sick man back to health With ease and plenty. Else small aid is wealth For daily gladness; once a man be done With hunger, rich and poor are all as one.

There is one thing alone that stands the brunt of life throughout its course; a quiet conscience.

Oh, what a power is motherhood, possessing a potent spell. Love, Light, Blessings

A rare spoil for a man Is the winning of a good wife; very Plentiful are the worthless women.

If some appalling disaster befalls, there's Always a way for the rich.

Mobs in their emotions are much like children, subject to the same tantrums and fits of fury.

Do we, holding that the gods exist, deceive ourselves with insubstantial dreams and lies, while random careless chance and change alone control the world?