Whatever You May Say, The Body Depends

Everything Resembles The Truth, Everything Can Happen To A Man.

Ah, Steeds, Steeds, What Steeds! Has The Whirlwind A Home In Your Manes? Is There A Sensitive Ear, Alert As A Flame, In Your Every Fiber? Hearing The Familiar Song From Above, All In One Accord You Strain Your Bronze Chests And, Hooves Barely Touching The Ground, Turn Into Straight Lines Cleaving The Air, And All Inspired By God It Rushes On!

Also, Though Not Over-elderly, He Was Not Over-young.

Go Along, Go Along Quickly, And Set All You Have On The Table For Us. We Don't Want Doughnuts, Honey Buns, Poppy Cakes, And Other Dainties; Bring Us A Whole Sheep, Serve A Goat And Forty-year Old Mead! And Plenty Of Vodka, Not Vodka With All Sorts Of Fancies, Not With Raisins And Flavorings, But Pure Foaming Vodka, That Hisses And Bubbles Like Mad.

He Who Has Talent In Him Must Be Purer In Soul Than Anyone Else. Another Will Be Forgiven Much, But To Him It Will Not Be Forgiven. A Man Who Leaves The House In Bright, Festive Clothes Needs Only One Drop Of Mud Splashed From Under A Wheel, And People All Surround Him, Point Their Fingers At Him, And Talk About His Slovenliness, While The Same People Ignore Many Spots On Other Passers-by Who Are Wearing Everyday Clothes. For On Everyday Clothes The Spots Do Not Show.