His Native Home Deep Imag'd In His

A Generation Of Men Is Like A Generation Of Leaves; The Wind Scatters Some Leaves Upon The Ground, While Others The Burgeoning Wood Brings Forth - And The Season Of Spring Comes On. So Of Men One Generation Springs Forth And Another Ceases.

We Are Quick To Flare Up, We Races Of Men On The Earth.

Even His Griefs Are A Joy Long After To One That Remembers All That He Wrought And Endured.

My Wife's Not Some Doobie To Be Passed Around! I Took A Vow On Our Wedding Day To Bogart Her For Life.

…but There They Lay, Sprawled Across The Field, Craved Far More By The Vultures Than By Wives.