The envious man grows lean at the success of his neighbor.

Strange - is it not? That of the myriads who Before us passed the door of Darkness through, Not one returns to tell us of the road Which to discover we must travel too.

Seize the day, and put the least possible trust in tomorrow.

It is no great art to say something briefly when, like Tacitus, one has something to say when one has nothing to say, however, and none the less writes a whole book and makes truth into a liar - that I call an achievement.

We are free to yield to truth.