There Is No Greater Fame For A

The Wordy Tale, Once Told, Were Hard To Tell Again.

Sweet Sleep Fell Upon His Eyelids, Unwakeful, Most Pleasant, The Nearest Like Death.

The Gods Give To Mortals Not Everything At The Same Time.

Generations Of Men Are Like The Leaves. In Winter, Winds Blow Them Down To Earth, But Then, When Spring Season Comes Again, The Budding Wood Grows More. And So With Men: One Generation Grows, Another Dies Away.

Young People Are Thoughtless As A Rule.