I'm A White Male, Age 18 To

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

Our Fruitless Labours Mourn, And Only Rich In Barren Fame Return.

There Is No Greater Fame For A Man Than That Which He Wins With His Footwork Or The Skill Of His Hands.

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.

Nothing Feebler Does Earth Nurture Than Man, Of All Things Breathing And Moving.