In Every Sorrowing Soul I Pour'd Delight,

It Is Not Right To Exult Over Slain Men.

Goddess-nurse Of The Young, Give Ear To My Prayer, And Grant That This Woman May Reject The Love-embraces Of Youth And Dote On Grey-haired Old Men Whose Powers Are Dulled, But Whose Hearts Still Desire.

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

Sleep And Death, Who Are Twin Brothers.

Beauty! Terrible Beauty! A Deathless Goddess-- So She Strikes Our Eyes!