If You Don't Like Your Job, You

Pffft, English. Who Needs That? I'm Never Going To England.

Thus Have The Gods Spun The Thread For Wretched Mortals: That They Live In Grief While They Themselves Are Without Cares; For Two Jars Stand On The Floor Of Zeus Of The Gifts Which He Gives, One Of Evils And Another Of Blessings.

For I Am Yearning To Visit The Limits Of The All-nurturing Earth, And Oceans, From Whom The Gods Are Sprung.

O Friends, Be Men; So Act That None May Feel Ashamed To Meet The Eyes Of Other Men. Think Each One Of This Children And His Wife, His Home, His Parents, Living Yet And Dead. For Them, The Absent Ones, I Supplicate, And Bid You Rally Here, And Scorn To Fly.

For Love Deceives The Best Of Woman Kind.