The Melancholy Joys Of Evils Pass'd, For

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End.

Ajax The Great Himself A Host.

To Heal Divisions, To Relieve The Oppress'd, In Virtue Rich; In Blessing Others, Bless'd.

Now Son, You Don’t Want To Drink Beer. That’s For Daddies, And Kids With Fake Ids.

All Things Are In The Hand Of Heaven, And Folly, Eldest Of Jove's Daughters, Shuts Men's Eyes To Their Destruction. She Walks Delicately, Not On The Solid Earth, But Hovers Over The Heads Of Men To Make Them Stumble Or To Ensnare Them.