There Is No Fouler Fiend Than A

...if Fifty Bands Of Men Surrounded Us/ And Every Sword Sang For Your Blood,/ You Could Make Off Still With Their Cows And Sheep.

[but] Age, The Common Enemy Of Mankind, Has Laid His Hand Upon You; Would That It Had Fallen Upon Some Other, And That You Were Still Young.

'yea And I Beheld Sisyphus In Strong Torment, Grasping A Monstrous Stone With Both His Hands. He Was Pressing Thereat With Hands And Feet, And Trying To Roll The Stone Upward Toward The Brow Of The Hill. But Oft As He Was About To Hurl It Over The Top, The Weight Would Drive Him Back, So Once Again To The Plain Rolled The Stone, The Shameless Thing. And He Once More Kept Heaving And Straining, And The Sweat The While Was Pouring Down His Limbs, And The Dust Rose Upwards From His Head.

Ah How Shameless – The Way These Mortals Blame The Gods. From Us Alone They Say Come All Their Miseries Yes But They Themselves With Their Own Reckless Ways Compound Their Pains Beyond Their Proper Share.

A Woman Is A Lot Like A Refrigerator. Six Feet Tall, 300 Pounds...it Makes Ice.