He lives to build, not boast, a generous race; No tenth transmitter of a foolish face.

What's ill-got scarce to a third heir descends, Nor wrongful booty meets with prosperous ends. [Lat., De male quaesitis vix gaudet tertius paeres, Nec habet eventus sordida praeda bonos.]

To kill a relative of whom you are tired is one thing. But to inherit his property afterwards, that is a genuine pleasure.

If you want to see what your friends and family think of you, die broke, and see who comes to your funeral.

What we have inherited from our fathers and mothers is not all that 'walks in us.' There are all sorts of dead ideas and lifeless old beliefs. They have no tangibility, but they haunt us all the same and we can not get rid of them. Whenever I take up a newspaper I seem to see Ghosts gliding between the lines. Ghosts must be all over the country. as thick as the sands of the sea.

And all to leave what with his toil he won, To that unfeather'd two-legged thing, a son.