Think well of me, in years to come,
When you sing my little songs.
Though I wrote them all,
Not all the credit belongs
To me but to the guys
Who told me about the guys
And boys they were mad about.
I'v told no lies.
I've told the honest truth
About each lover's heart.
After all, that's why the gods
Gave men like me this gift of art.
--Strato (circa 120 C.E.)

Every man  is guilty of all the good he didn't do.
--Voltaire