We All Scribble Poetry.

You, Why Are You So Afraid Of War And Slaughter? Even If All The Rest Of Us Drop And Die Around You, Grappling For The Ships, You’d Run No Risk Of Death: You Lack The Heart To Last It Out In Combat—coward!

The Whims Of Youth Break All The Rules.

Pffft, English. Who Needs That? I'm Never Going To England.

The Man Who Acts The Least, Upbraids The Most.

So It Is That The Gods Do Not Give All Men Gifts Of Grace - Neither Good Looks Nor Intelligence Nor Eloquence.