I'm satisfied. It's straight,...but it's just so hot, and I'm just so fraustrated.

The wine urges me on, the bewitching wine, which sets even a wise man to singing and to laughing gently and rouses him up to dance and brings forth words which were better unspoken.

Now from his breast into the eyes the ache of longing mounted, and he wept at last, his dear wife, clear and faithful, in his arms, longed for as the sunwarmed earth is longed for by a swimmer spent in rough water where his ship went down under Poseidon's blows, gale winds and tons of sea. Few men can keep alive through a big serf to crawl, clotted with brine, on kindly beaches in joy, in joy, knowing the abyss behind: and so she too rejoiced, her gaze upon her husband, her white arms round him pressed as though forever.

I war not with the dead.

How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!

Ah, beer, my one weakness. My Achille's heel, if you will.

Thou knowst the oer-eager vehemence of youth,How quick in temper, and in judgement weak.