It Is The Bold Man Who Every

In Saffron-colored Mantle From The Tides Of Oceans Rose The Morning To Bright Light To Gods And Men.

And Overpowered By Memory Both Men Gave Way To Grief. Priam Wept Freely For Man - Killing Hector, Throbbing, Crouching Before Achilles' Feet As Achilles Wept Himself, Now For His Father, Now For Patroclus Once Again And Their Sobbing Rose And Fell Throughout The House.

We Got A Little Rule Back Home: If It's Brown, Drink It Down. If It's Black, Send It Back.

For Rarely Are Sons Similar To Their Fathers: Most Are Worse, And A Few Are Better Than Their Fathers.

No One Can Hurry Me Down To Hades Before My Time, But If A Man's Hour Is Come, Be He Brave Or Be He Coward, There Is No Escape For Him When He Has Once Been Born.