Dreams Are Sent By God.

His Native Home Deep Imag'd In His Soul.

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.

A Councilor Ought Not To Sleep The Whole Night Through, A Man To Whom The Populace Is Entrusted, And Who Has Many Responsibilities.

But You Can't Stop At One, You Wanna Drink Another Woman!

Life Is Not To Be Bought With Heaps Of Gold; Not All Apollo's Pythian Treasures Hold, Or Troy Once Held, In Peace And Pride Of Sway, Can Bribe The Poor Possession Of The Day.