Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.
The gods, likening themselves to all kinds of strangers, go in various disguises from city to city, observing the wrongdoing and the righteousness of men.
It never was our guise to slight the poor, or aught humane despise.
Nothing feebler does earth nurture than man, Of all things breathing and moving.
A young man is embarrassed to question an older one.
The man does better who runs from disaster than he who is caught by it.