There's Small Choice In Rotten Apples.

Beware The Leader Who Bangs The Drums Of War In Order To Whip The Citizenry Into A Patriotic Fervor.

My Grief Lies Onward, And My Joy Behind.

Verily, I Swear, It Is Better To Be Lowly Born, And Range With Humble Livers In Content, Than To Be Perked Up In A Glistering Grief, And Wear A Golden Sorrow.

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

Take It In What Sense Thou Wilt.