Discourse, The Sweeter Banquet Of

Like Strength Is Felt From Hope, And From Despair.

By Their Own Follies They Perished, The Fools.

I Long For Home, Long For The Sight Of Home.

Jove Lifts The Golden Balances That Show The Fates Of Mortal Men, And Things Below.

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