Literary tradition is full of lies about poverty-the jolly beggar, the poor but happy milkmaid, the wholesome diet of porridge, etc.

Forget what hurt you but never forget what it thaught you.

What lies behind appearance is usually another appearance.

Electricity, water, gas, and steam course through the walls of my building, keeping it alive.

The prison is the state writ small.

My noisy denunciation trails off in doubt.

I am only interested in money because everyone else is.