It Was Built Against The Will Of

I Would Rather Be A Serf In A Poor Man's House And Be Above Ground Than Reign Among The Dead.

Come Then, Put Away Your Sword In Its Sheath, And Let Us Two Go Up Into My Bed So That, Lying Together In The Bed Of Love, We May Then Have Faith And Trust In Each Other.

Do Not Beg Me By Knees Or By Parents You Dog! I Only Wish I Were Savagely Wrathful Enough To Hack Up Your Corpse And Eat It Raw

Even His Griefs Are A Joy Long After To One That Remembers All That He Wrought And Endured.

No Season Now For Calm, Familiar Talk.