To Labour Is The Lot Of Man

The Outcome Of The War Is In Our Hands; The Outcome Of Words Is In The Council.

She Sent Him A Warm And Gentle Wind, And Lord Odysseus Was Happy As He Set His Sails To Catch The Breeze. He Sat Beside The Steering Oar And Used His Skill To Steer The Raft.

We're Goin Bowling. If We Don't Come Back, Avenge Our Deaths.

It Is Not Strength, But Art, Obtains The Prize, And To Be Swift Is Less Than To Be Wise.

Sleep, Delicious And Profound, The Very Counterfeit Of Death