The best things beyond their measure cloy.

What greater glory attends a man than what he wins with his racing feet and his striving hands?

And overpowered by memory Both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely For man - killing Hector, throbbing, crouching Before Achilles' feet as Achilles wept himself, Now for his father, now for Patroclus once again And their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house.

Forgetful youth! but know, the Power above With ease can save each object of his love; Wide as his will extends his boundless grace.

If they think I'm going to stop at that stop sign, they're mistaken!

Insignificant mortals, who are as leaves are, and now flourish and grow warm with life, and feed on what the ground gives, but then again fade away and are dead.

If not yet lost to all the sense of shame.