Uncontrollable Laughter Arose Among The Blessed Gods.

We Battle On In Words, As Always, Mere Words, And What's The Cure? We Cannot Find A Thing.

I'm Like That Guy Who Single-handedly Built The Rocket And Flew To The Moon. What Was His Name? Apollo Creed?

A Small Rock Holds Back A Great Wave.

It Is A Wise Child That Knows His Own Father. [lat., Nondum Enim Quisquam Suum Parentem Ipse Cognosvit.]

But You, Achilles,/ There Is Not A Man In The World More Blest Than You--/ There Never Has Been, Never Will Be One./ Time Was, When You Were Alive, We Argives/ Honored You As A God, And Now Down Here, I See/ You Lord It Over The Dead In All Your Power./ So Grieve No More At Dying, Great Achilles.’ I Reassured The Ghost, But He Broke Out Protesting,/ ‘no Winning Words About Death To Me, Shining Odysseus!/ By God, I’d Rather Slave On Earth For Another Man--/ Some Dirt-poor Tenant Farmer Who Scrapes To Keep Alive—than Rule Down Here Over All The Breathless Dead.