It Is Wrong To Sorrow Without Ceasing.

The Fates Have Given Mankind A Patient Soul.

Strife, Only A Slight Thing When She First Rears Her Head But Her Head Soon Hits The Sky As She Strides Across The Earth.

If They Think I'm Going To Stop At That Stop Sign, They're Mistaken!

Do Thou Restrain The Haughty Spirit In Thy Breast, For Better Far Is Gentle Courtesy.

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.