Do Thou Restrain The Haughty

Let Me Not Then Die Ingloriously And Without A Struggle, But Let Me First Do Some Great Thing That Shall Be Told Among Men Hereafter.

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End So Voluble A Weapon Is The Tongue; Wounded, We Wound; And Neither Side Can Fail For Every Man Has Equal Strength To Rail.

Why, You Could Wake Up Dead Tomorrow

Is He Not Sacred, Even To The Gods, The Wandering Man Who Comes In Weariness?

So It Is That The Gods Do Not Give All Men Gifts Of Grace - Neither Good Looks Nor Intelligence Nor Eloquence.