Anger, Which, Far Sweeter Than Trickling Drops

His Native Home Deep Imag'd In His Soul.

Is He Not Sacred, Even To The Gods, The Wandering Man Who Comes In Weariness?

Pine Needle Sorbet? Pine Needle Sorbet?! My Kids Do Not Eat Sorbet. They Eat Sherbet, And They Pronounce It Sherbert, And They Wish It Was Ice Cream!

Fear, O Achilles, The Wrath Of Heaven; Think On Your Own Father And Have Compassion Upon Me, Who Am The More Pitiable

...if Fifty Bands Of Men Surrounded Us/ And Every Sword Sang For Your Blood,/ You Could Make Off Still With Their Cows And Sheep.