Men Grow Tired Of Sleep, Love, Singing

Immortals Are Never Alien To One Another.

To Labour Is The Lot Of Man Below; And When Jove Gave Us Life, He Gave Us Woe.

Wine Sets Even A Thoughtful Man To Singing, Or Sets Him Into Softly Laughing, Sets Him To Dancing. Sometimes It Tosses Out A Word That Was Better Unspoken.

I Would Rather Be A Serf In A Poor Man's House And Be Above Ground Than Reign Among The Dead.

And Bear Unmov'd The Wrongs Of Base Mankind, The Last, And Hardest, Conquest Of The Mind.