Clanless, Lawless, Homeless Is He Who Is

By Jove The Stranger And The Poor Are Sent, And What To Those We Give, To Jove Is Lent.

Let Him Submit To Me! Only The God Of Death Is So Relentless, Death Submits To No One—so Mortals Hate Him Most Of All The Gods. Let Him Bow Down To Me! I Am The Greater King, I Am The Elder-born, I Claim—the Greater Man.

I Didn't Lie! I Just Created Fiction With My Mouth!

Like The Generations Of Leaves, The Lives Of Mortal Men. Now The Wind Scatters The Old Leaves Across The Earth, Now The Living Timber Bursts With The New Buds And Spring Comes Round Again. And So With Men: As One Generation Comes To Life, Another Dies Away.

Do Not Beg Me By Knees Or By Parents You Dog! I Only Wish I Were Savagely Wrathful Enough To Hack Up Your Corpse And Eat It Raw