Discourse, The Sweeter Banquet Of The Mind.

On These Sands And In The Clefts Of The Rocks, In The Depths Of The Sea, In The Creaking Of The Pines, You'll Spy Secret Footprints And Catch Far-off Voices From The Homecoming Celebration. This Land Still Longs For Odysseus.

We Battle On In Words, As Always, Mere Words, And What's The Cure? We Cannot Find A Thing.

I Too Shall Lie In The Dust When I Am Dead, But Now Let Me Win Noble Renown.

The Only Monster Here Is The Gambling Monster That Has Enslaved Your Mother, And I Call Him Gamblor!

These Nights Are Endless, And A Man Can Sleep Through Them, Or He Can Enjoy Listening To Stories, And You Have No Need To Go To Bed Before It Is Time. Too Much Sleep Is Only A Bore. And Of The Others, Any One Whose Heart And Spirit Urge Him Can Go Outside And Sleep, And Then, When The Dawn Shows, Breakfast First, Then Go Out To Tend The Swine Of Our Master. But We Two, Sitting Here In The Shelter, Eating And Drinking, Shall Entertain Each Other Remembering And Retelling Our Sad Sorrows. For Afterwards A Man Who Has Suffered Much And Wandered Much Has Pleasure Out Of His Sorrows.