How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The

I've Always Wondered If There Was A God. And Now I Know There Is -- And It's Me.

All Men Have Need Of The Gods.

The Sun Rose On The Flawless Brimming Sea Into A Sky All Brazen-all One Brightening For Gods Immortal And For Mortal Men On Plowlands Kind With Grain.

Sing, O Muse, Of The Rage Of Achilles, Son Of Peleus, That Brought Countless Ills Upon The Achaeans.

Words Empty As The Wind Are Best Left Unsaid.