Nothing Is Hopeless; We Must Hope For

Pay Special Attention To Their Agony So I Might Take Some Pleasure.

The Man Who Glories In His Luck May Be Overthrown By Destiny.

He Is Life's Liberating Force. He Is Release Of Limbs And Communion Through Dance. He Is Laughter, And Music In Flutes. He Is Repose From All Cares -- He Is Sleep! When His Blood Bursts From The Grape And Flows Across Tables Laid In His Honor To Fuse With Our Blood, He Gently, Gradually, Wraps Us In Shadows Of Ivy-cool Sleep.

There Is Desire In Those Who Love To Hear About Their Loved Ones' Pains.

Happy Is It To Place A Daughter; Yet It Pains A Father's Heart When He Delivers To Another's House A Child, The Object Of His Tender Care.