Tutor has a favorite Ancient, Pubilius Syrus, a slave from Syria, freed in Rome because of his gift for sententiae. Tutor identifies with him because a) Syrus was a slave in the greatest empire in history and Tutor was a wage slave in Wealth Bondage the greatest corporatiorn in history, b) Syrus did moral maxims and Tutor has his tooterisms, c) Syrus got his start doing "mimes," as Tutor is best known for mimicking the Wise and Virtuous under the guise of a Fool and a Rogue, and mostly because c) all but tiny fragments of Syrus's works have been lost and Tutor (so he claims) is the author of a Work of Genius, now lost somewhere in his Dumpster under the old books and a sack of garbage.
So, at this very moment, Tutor is lounging on Audrey's bed, in the Castle by the Sea, reading out aphorisms, to form the moral sensibility of she who will one day rule us all.
Audrey is on the floor teaching herself to shoot dice, because - bright young lady that she is - she has noticed that owning a Casino is probably the best path to understanding the General Public, winning their votes, if votes are needed, and ruling them as they wish to be ruled, with Dreams, Folly, Cupidity, Lust, and Rage.
Tutor to Audrey: "Depravity pretends to goodness, that it may be worse than before!"
Audrey ignoring Tutor, blowing on her dice: "Lady Luck don't fail me now!"
Tutor to Audrey, just doing his job: "The less Fortune has given, the less she can take away."
Audrey caught up in the game: "O Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Snake eyes!"
Tutor to Audrey: "Excessive indignation is sometimes evidence of a great crime."
Audrey hopeful again, with the energy of youth: "Sweet Jesus, make me a winner, please motherfucking Jesus!"
Tutor to Audrey: "In the art of praying, necessity is the best of teachers."
More rides on the patience of a Tutor, of Generations 2-4 in Dynastic Families than can ever be corrected by Congress, Nato, or The United Nations. At $14 a day plus room and board in the old Dungeon, Tutor is doing the work of God-in-History. I am not worthy to touch the ragged hem of his Hawaiian shirt. All I claim is that I am one of his lineage, his chief descendent, intellectually speaking, the founder of a peripatetic Dumpster Dwelling School, the Infallible Peter, the rock upon whom my Master has founded his Church. To me and to me alone has he entrusted his Word. He gives it away, pro bono publico, like a sower of seed in the asphalt wilderness, as freely as a breeze through the trees, or the promptings of the holy spirit, but I own and have reserved all the rights! "It is," as Tutor wisely saith, "all Wealth Bondage after all."