The Bitter Dregs Of Fortune's Cup To

We Men Are Wretched Things.

The Sun Rose On The Flawless Brimming Sea Into A Sky All Brazen-all One Brightening For Gods Immortal And For Mortal Men On Plowlands Kind With Grain.

A Small Rock Holds Back A Great Wave.

The Lord Gives And The Lord Takes Away, As It Pleases Him, For He Can Do All Things.

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