A Glorious Death Is His,

The Gods, Likening Themselves To All Kinds Of Strangers, Go In Various Disguises From City To City, Observing The Wrongdoing And The Righteousness Of Men.

The Lot Of Man-to Suffer And Die.

A Boy Without Mischief Is Like A Bowling Ball Without A Liquid Center.

Over The Wine-dark Sea.

Nobody Gets Into Heaven Without A Glowstick.