We Are Quick To Flare Up, We

'yea And I Beheld Sisyphus In Strong Torment, Grasping A Monstrous Stone With Both His Hands. He Was Pressing Thereat With Hands And Feet, And Trying To Roll The Stone Upward Toward The Brow Of The Hill. But Oft As He Was About To Hurl It Over The Top, The Weight Would Drive Him Back, So Once Again To The Plain Rolled The Stone, The Shameless Thing. And He Once More Kept Heaving And Straining, And The Sweat The While Was Pouring Down His Limbs, And The Dust Rose Upwards From His Head.

The Single Best Augury Is To Fight For One's Country.

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End.

By Their Own Follies They Perished, The Fools.

Goddess Of Song, Teach Me The Story Of A Hero.