Steel Itself Oft Lures A

Sinks My Sad Soul With Sorrow To The Grave.

Ruin, Eldest Daughter Of Zeus, She Blinds Us All, That Fatal Madness—she With Those Delicate Feet Of Hers, Never Touching The Earth, Gliding Over The Heads Of Men To Trap Us All. She Entangles One Man, Now Another.

We Men Are Wretched Things.

Just Once I'd Like Someone To Call Me 'sir' Without Adding 'you're Making A Scene.'

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.