Rumor but grows in the telling and strives to embellish Russia there is a sect called the skoptzi See or hear nothing at all of the affairs of every-day life She is chaste whom no man has solicited--Ovid Something in the way of hope at which to nibble Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine Stinking of St. Jerome Tax on bachelors The loser’s always the winner in arguments The teachers, who must gibber with lunatics They secure their ends, save by setting snares for the ears They seize what they dread to lose most To follow all paths; but a road can discover by none Too many doctors did away with him Wars were as much enterprises for ravishing women We know that you’re only a fool with a lot of learning Whatever we have, we despise Whatever you talk of at home will fly forth in an instant Whenever you learn a thing, it’s yours While we live, let us live You can spot a louse on someone else