Whoever Obeys The Gods, To Him They

Canada? Why Would I Want To Leave America Just To Visit America, Jr.?

What Is This Word That Broke Through The Fence Of Your Teeth, Atreides?

All Men Owe Honor To The Poets - Honor And Awe; For They Are Dearest To The Muse Who Puts Upon Their Lips The Ways Of Life.

Men Grow Tired Of Sleep, Love, Singing And Dancing Sooner Than Of War.

Anger, Which, Far Sweeter Than Trickling Drops Of Honey, Rises In The Bosom Of A Man Like Smoke.