What Is This Word That

All Men Owe Honor To The Poets - Honor And Awe; For They Are Dearest To The Muse Who Puts Upon Their Lips The Ways Of Life.

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.

Even His Griefs Are A Joy Long After To One That Remembers All That He Wrought And Endured.

Too Many Kings Can Ruin An Army

It's Man's To Fight, But Heaven's To Give Success.