Sinks My Sad Soul With Sorrow To

These Nights Are Endless, And A Man Can Sleep Through Them, Or He Can Enjoy Listening To Stories, And You Have No Need To Go To Bed Before It Is Time. Too Much Sleep Is Only A Bore. And Of The Others, Any One Whose Heart And Spirit Urge Him Can Go Outside And Sleep, And Then, When The Dawn Shows, Breakfast First, Then Go Out To Tend The Swine Of Our Master. But We Two, Sitting Here In The Shelter, Eating And Drinking, Shall Entertain Each Other Remembering And Retelling Our Sad Sorrows. For Afterwards A Man Who Has Suffered Much And Wandered Much Has Pleasure Out Of His Sorrows.

[but] Age, The Common Enemy Of Mankind, Has Laid His Hand Upon You; Would That It Had Fallen Upon Some Other, And That You Were Still Young.

It [revenge] Is Sweeter Far Than Flowing Honey.

I Am So Smart. I Am So Smart. I Am So Smart. S-m-r-t ... Uh, I Mean S-m-a-r-t.

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.