Do not commit your poems to pages alone, sing them I pray you.

• As the twig is bent the tree inclines.
• Nunc scio quit sit amor.
• It never troubles the wolf how many the sheep may be.
• Fortune favors the bold.
• Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to Hell the door of dark Dis stands open day and night. But to retrace your steps and come out to the air above, that is work, that is labor
• Possunt quia posse videntur. (They can because they think they can, from The Aeneid)
• Love begets love, love knows no rules, this is the same for all.
• Each of us bears his own Hell.
• In quarrels such as these not ours to intervene.
• The gates of hell are open, night and day Smooth the descent, and easy the way.