Just Once I'd Like Someone To Call

For When Two Join In The Same Adventure, One Perceives Before The Other How They Ought To Act; While One Alone, However Prompt, Resolves More Tardily And With A Weaker Will.

Our Fruitless Labours Mourn, And Only Rich In Barren Fame Return.

There Is No Fouler Fiend Than A Woman When Her Mind Is Bent To Evil.

We Battle On In Words, As Always, Mere Words, And What's The Cure? We Cannot Find A Thing.

Wine Give Strenght To Weary Men. And And Wine Can Of Their Wits The Wise Beguile. Make The Sage Frolic, And The Serious Smile. And Let Those Who Drink Not, But Austerely Dine, Dry Up In Law; The Muses Smell Of Wine. And No Poem Was Ever Written By A Drinker Of Water. And Bacchus Opens The Gate Of The Heart. And Might To Inspire New Hopes And Powerful To Drown The Bitterness Of Cares.