Few Sons Attain The Praise Of Their

A Woman Is A Lot Like A Refrigerator. Six Feet Tall, 300 Pounds...it Makes Ice.

There Is Nothing Worse For Mortals Than A Wandering Life.

Still, We Will Let All This Be A Thing Of The Past, Though It Hurts Us, And Beat Down By Constraint The Anger That Rises Inside Us. Now I Am Making An End Of My Anger. It Does Not Become Me, Unrelentingly To Rage On

And His Good Wife Will Tear Her Cheeks In Grief, His Sons Are Orphans And He, Soaking The Soil Red With His Own Blood, He Rots Away Himself-more Birds Than Women Flocking Round His Body!

Life And Death Are Balanced As It Were On The Edge Of A Razor