A Man Who Has Been Through Bitter

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

The Chance Of War Is Equal, And The Slayer Oft Is Slain.

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.

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

For When Two Join In The Same Adventure, One Perceives Before The Other How They Ought To Act; While One Alone, However Prompt, Resolves More Tardily And With A Weaker Will.