Discourse, The Sweeter Banquet Of The Mind.

The Force Of Union Conquers All.

Come Then, Put Away Your Sword In Its Sheath, And Let Us Two Go Up Into My Bed So That, Lying Together In The Bed Of Love, We May Then Have Faith And Trust In Each Other.

Restrain Yourself... And Gloat In Silence. I'll Have No Jubilation Here. It Is An Impious Thing To Exult Over The Slain.

Like Leaves On Trees The Race Of Man Is Found,- Now Green In Youth, Now Withering On The Ground; Another Race The Following Spring Supplies: They Fall Successive, And Successive Rise.

The Gods Give To Mortals Not Everything At The Same Time.