Now From The Smooth Deep Ocean-stream The

Everything Flows And Nothing Stays.

You Will Certainly Not Be Able To Take The Lead In All Things Yourself, For To One Man A God Has Given Deeds Of War, And To Another The Dance, To Another Lyre And Song, And In Another Wide-sounding Zeus Puts A Good Mind.

Few Sons Are Like Their Fathers - Many Are Worse, Few Better.

For They Imagined As They Wished--that It Was A Wild Shot,/ An Unintended Killing--fools, Not To Comprehend/ They Were Already In The Grip Of Death./ But Glaring Under His Brows Odysseus Answered: 'you Yellow Dogs, You Thought I'd Never Make It/ Home From The Land Of Troy. You Took My House To Plunder,/ Twisted My Maids To Serve Your Beds. You Dared/ Bid For My Wife While I Was Still Alive./ Contempt Was All You Had For The Gods Who Rule Wide Heaven,/ Contempt For What Men Say Of You Hereafter./ Your Last Hour Has Come. You Die In Blood.

Singing Is The Lowest Form Of Communication.