No one rejoices more in revenge than woman.
Now we suffer the evils of a long peace; luxury more cruel than war broods over us and avenges a conquered world.
Give them bread and circuses and they will never revolt
A hairy body, and arms stiff with bristles, give promise of a manly soul.
The short bloom of our brief and narrow life flies fast away. While we are calling for flowers and wine and women, old age is upon us.
He will be the last to discover the disgrace of his house.