By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent, and what to those we give, to Jove is lent.
Now son, you donโt want to drink beer. Thatโs for Daddies, and kids with fake IDs.
I don't know how much longer I can complain.
We men are wretched things.
Life and death are balanced as it were on the edge of a razor
out of sight,out of mind