But who guards the guardians?
Some men make fortunes, but not to enjoy them for, blinded by avarice, they live to make fortunes.
Led on by impulse, and blind and ungovernable desires.
Revenge is always the weak pleasure of a little and narrow mind.
Remote though your farm may be, It's something to be the lord of one green lizard-and free.
When the mischief is done the door is shut.