Thou Art The Best O' The Cut-throats

I Do The Wrong, And First Begin To Brawl. The Secret Mischiefs That I Set Abroach I Lay Unto The Grievous Charge Of Others.

We Suffer A Lot The Few Things We Lack And We Enjoy Too Little The Many Things We Have.

And Too Soon Marred Are Those So Early Made.

The Web Of Our Life Is Of A Mingled Yarn, Good And Ill Together.

Friendship's Full Of Dregs.