Do I Know What Rhetorical

There Is The Heat Of Love, The Pulsing Rush Of Longing, The Lover’s Whisper, Irresistible—magic To Make The Sanest Man Go Mad.

There Is No Fouler Fiend Than A Woman When Her Mind Is Bent To Evil.

And Here I Am Using My Own Lungs Like A Sucker.

The God Of War Will See Fair Play-he's Often Slain That Wants To Slay!

It Is Not Right To Exult Over Slain Men.