It Is Wrong To Be Sorry Without

Whatever Day Makes Man A Slave, Takes Half His Worth Away.

Be Still My Heart; Thou Hast Known Worse Than This.

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.

...if Fifty Bands Of Men Surrounded Us/ And Every Sword Sang For Your Blood,/ You Could Make Off Still With Their Cows And Sheep.

Two Friends, Two Bodies With One Soul Inspired.