There Is A Fullness Of All Things,

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.

Will Cast The Spear And Leave The Rest To Jove.

The Melancholy Joys Of Evils Pass'd, For He Who Much Has Suffer'd, Much Will Know.

I Wish That Strife Would Vanish Away From Among Gods And Mortals, And Gall, Which Makes A Man Grow Angry For All His Great Mind, That Gall Of Anger That Swarms Like Smoke Inside Of A Man's Heart And Becomes A Thing Sweeter To Him By Far Than The Dripping Of Honey.

All My Life I've Been An Obese Man Trapped Inside A Fat Man's Body.