Few sons are like their fathers - many are worse, few better.

It is tedious to tell again tales already plainly told.

The melancholy joys of evils pass'd, For he who much has suffer'd, much will know.

Do not beg me by knees or by parents you dog! I only wish I were savagely wrathful enough to hack up your corpse and eat it raw

I would rather be a serf in a poor man's house and be above ground than reign among the dead.

There is nothing more dread and more shameless than a woman who plans such deeds in her heart as the foul deed which she plotted when she contrived her husband's murder.

We got a little rule back home: If it's brown, drink it down. If it's black, send it back.