Ah, Beer, My One Weakness. My Achille's

But You Can't Stop At One, You Wanna Drink Another Woman!

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

The Natural Thing, My Lord, Men And Women Joined.

The Generation Of Mankind Is Like The Generation Of Leaves. The Wind Scatters The Leaves On The Ground, But The Living Tree Burgeons With Leaves Again In The Spring.

The Gods, Likening Themselves To All Kinds Of Strangers, Go In Various Disguises From City To City, Observing The Wrongdoing And The Righteousness Of Men.