If They Think I'm Going To Stop

The Journey Is Its Own Reward.

Two Urns On Jove's High Throne Have Ever Stood, The Source Of Evil One, And One Of Good; From Thence The Cup Of Mortal Man He Fills, Blessings To These, To Those Distributes Ills; To Most He Mingles Both.

All The Survivors Of The War Had Reached Their Homes And So Put The Perils Of Battle And The Sea Behind Them.

Nothing In The World Is So Incontinent As A Man's Accursed Appetite.

The Generation Of Mankind Is Like The Generation Of Leaves. The Wind Scatters The Leaves On The Ground, But The Living Tree Burgeons With Leaves Again In The Spring.