Hunger Is The Teacher Of The Arts

We Consume Our Tomorrows Fretting About Our Yesterdays.

Hunger Is The Teacher Of The Arts And The Bestower Of Invention. -magister Artis Ingenique Largitor Venter

Each Man Has His Own Desires; All Do Not Possess The Same Inclinations.

Confined To Common Life Thy Numbers Flow, And Neither Soar Too High Nor Sink Too Low; There Strength And Ease In Graceful Union Meet, Though Polished, Subtle, And Though Poignant, Sweet; Yet Powerful To Abash The From Of Crime And Crimson Error's Cheek With Sportive Rhyme. [lat., Verba Togae Sequeris, Junctura Callidus Acri, Ore Teres Modico, Pallentes Radere Mores Doctus, Et Ingenuo Culpam Defigere Ludo.]

Oh, What A Void There Is In Things.