Poverty Possesses This Disease; Through Want It

Wine Enlivens The Human Soul.

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.

Who Dares Not Speak His Free Thoughts Is A Slave.

But Woe To Him, Who Left To Moan, Reviews The Hours Of Brightness Gone.

It Is Better That We Live Ever So Miserably Than Die In Glory.