Never To Be Cast Away Are The

Two Diverse Gates There Are Of Bodiless Dreams, These Of Sawn Ivory, And Those Of Horn. Such Dreams As Issue Where The Ivory Gleams Fly Without Fate, And Turn Our Hopes To Scorn. But Dreams Which Issue Through The Burnished Horn, What Man Soe'er Beholds Them On His Bed, These Work With Virtue And Of Truth Are Born.

The Rule Of The Many Is Not Well. One Must Be Chief In War And One The King.

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

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End.

God Help Me, I'm Just Not That Bright.