And Bear Unmov'd The Wrongs Of Base

First You Don't Want Me To Get The Pony, Then You Want Me To Take It Back. Make Up Your Mind!

The Long Historian Of My Country's Woes.

Generations Of Men Are Like The Leaves. In Winter, Winds Blow Them Down To Earth, But Then, When Spring Season Comes Again, The Budding Wood Grows More. And So With Men: One Generation Grows, Another Dies Away.

I Should Rather Labor As Another's Serf, In The Home Of A Man Without Fortune, One Whose Livelihood Was Meager, Than Rule Over All The Departed Dead.

Behold, On Wrong Swift Vengeance Waits; And Art Subdues The Strong.