The Wordy Tale, Once Told, Were Hard

The Lot Of Man-to Suffer And Die.

Strife, Only A Slight Thing When She First Rears Her Head But Her Head Soon Hits The Sky As She Strides Across The Earth.

Nothing Shall I, While Sane, Compare With A Friend.

Praise Me Not Too Much, Nor Blame Me, For Thou Speakest To The Greeks Who Know Me.

Too Dear I Prized A Fair Enchanting Face: Beauty Unchaste Is Beauty In Disgrace.