There Will Be Killing Till The Score

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows; One Should Our Interests And Our Passions Be, My Friend Must Hate The Man That Injures Me.

Never To Be Cast Away Are The Gifts Of The Gods, Magnificent, Which They Give Of Their Own Will, No Man Could Have Them For Wanting Them.

Look At Me! I'm A Puffy Pink Cloud!

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.

Among All Men On The Earth Bards Have A Share Of Honor And Reverence, Because The Muse Has Taught Them Songs And Loves The Race Of Bards.