Toil Is The Lot Of All, And

All Right, Let's Not Panic. I'll Make The Money By Selling One Of My Livers. I Can Get By With One.

On These Sands And In The Clefts Of The Rocks, In The Depths Of The Sea, In The Creaking Of The Pines, You'll Spy Secret Footprints And Catch Far-off Voices From The Homecoming Celebration. This Land Still Longs For Odysseus.

Ah How Shameless – The Way These Mortals Blame The Gods. From Us Alone They Say Come All Their Miseries Yes But They Themselves With Their Own Reckless Ways Compound Their Pains Beyond Their Proper Share.

Nobody Gets Into Heaven Without A Glowstick.

We Got A Little Rule Back Home: If It's Brown, Drink It Down. If It's Black, Send It Back.