The Melancholy Joys Of Evils Pass'd, For

I Should Rather Labor As Another's Serf, In The Home Of A Man Without Fortune, One Whose Livelihood Was Meager, Than Rule Over All The Departed Dead.

The Wine Urges Me On, The Bewitching Wine, Which Sets Even A Wise Man To Singing And To Laughing Gently And Rouses Him Up To Dance And Brings Forth Words Which Were Better Unspoken.

Marge, When I Join An Underground Cult I Expect A Little Support From My Family.

A Young Man Is Embarrassed To Question An Older One.

The Man Does Better Who Runs From Disaster Than He Who Is Caught By It.