This Is The Way I've

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.

She Sent Him A Warm And Gentle Wind, And Lord Odysseus Was Happy As He Set His Sails To Catch The Breeze. He Sat Beside The Steering Oar And Used His Skill To Steer The Raft.

It Is Wrong To Be Sorry Without Ceasing.

I Should Rather Labor As Another's Serf, In The Home Of A Man Without Fortune, One Whose Livelihood Was Meager, Than Rule Over All The Departed Dead.

A Shamefaced Man Makes A Bad Beggar.