I'm Like That Guy Who

Insignificant Mortals, Who Are As Leaves Are, And Now Flourish And Grow Warm With Life, And Feed On What The Ground Gives, But Then Again Fade Away And Are Dead.

Once Harm Has Been Done, Even A Fool Understands It.

The God Of War Is Impartial: He Hands Out Death To The Man Who Hands Out Death.

Do I Know What Rhetorical Means?

Come Then, Put Away Your Sword In Its Sheath, And Let Us Two Go Up Into My Bed So That, Lying Together In The Bed Of Love, We May Then Have Faith And Trust In Each Other.