Who Ne'er Knew Salt, Or Heard The

Dreams Are Sent By God.

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.

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.

Death Submits To No One.

You Know, The One With All The Well Meaning Rules That Don't Work Out In Real Life, Uh, Christianity.