No Trust Is To Be Placed In

Like Leaves On Trees The Race Of Man Is Found,- Now Green In Youth, Now Withering On The Ground; Another Race The Following Spring Supplies: They Fall Successive, And Successive Rise.

I'm A White Male, Age 18 To 49. Everyone Listens To Me, No Matter How Dumb My Suggestions Are.

All Deaths Are Hateful To Miserable Mortals, But The Most Pitiable Death Of All Is To Starve.

The Force Of Union Conquers All.

Miserable Mortals Who Like Leaves At One Moment Flame With Life Eating The Produce Of The Land And At Another Moment Weakly Perish.