We Men Are Wretched Things.

Thus Have The Gods Spun The Thread For Wretched Mortals: That They Live In Grief While They Themselves Are Without Cares; For Two Jars Stand On The Floor Of Zeus Of The Gifts Which He Gives, One Of Evils And Another Of Blessings.

And His Good Wife Will Tear Her Cheeks In Grief, His Sons Are Orphans And He, Soaking The Soil Red With His Own Blood, He Rots Away Himself-more Birds Than Women Flocking Round His Body!

The Grecian Ladies Counted Their Age From Their Marriage, Not Their Birth.

What Mighty Woes To Thy Imperial Race From Woman Rose.

Kids Are Great. You Can Teach Them To Hate What You Hate And, With The Internet And All, They Practically Raise Themselves.