Where There Is No Wine There Is

The Man Who Melts With Social Sympathy, Though Not Allied, Is More Worth Than A Thousand Kinsmen.

When Roused To Rage The Maddening Populace Storms, Their Fury, Like A Rolling Flame, Bursts Forth Unquenchable; But Give Its Violence Ways, It Spends Itself, And As Its Force Abates, Learns To Obey And Yields It To Your Will.

Mankind . . . Possesses Two Supreme Blessings. First Of These Is The Goddess Demeter, Or Earth Whichever Name You Choose To Call Her By. It Was She Who Gave To Man His Nourishment Of Grain. But After Her There Came The Son Of Semele, Who Matched Her Present By Inventing Liquid Wine As His Gift To Man. For Filled With That Good Gift, Suffering Mankind Forgets Its Grief; From It Comes Sleep; With It Oblivion Of The Troubles Of The Day. There Is No Other Medicine For Misery.

Nothing Happens To Man Without The Permission Of God.

The Life Of Men Is Painful.