Nothing Is Hopeless; We Must

The Daughters Of Sparta Are Never At Home! They Mingle With The Young Men In Wrestling Matches.

My Hands Are Clean, But My Heart Has Somewhat Of Impurity.

It Is Better That We Live Ever So Miserably Than Die In Glory.

The Mob Gets Out Of Hand, Runs Wild, Worse Than Raging Fire, While The Man Who Stands Apart Is Called A Coward.

That Mortal Is A Fool Who, Prospering, Thinks His Life Has Any Strong Foundation; Since Our Fortune's Course Of Action Is The Reeling Way A Madman Takes, And No One Person Is Ever Happy All The Time.