By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent, and what to those we give, to Jove is lent.

I long for home, long for the sight of home.

Know from the bounteous heaven all riches flow.

The ugliest man was he who came to Troy; with squinting eyes and one distorted foot.

I was working on a flat tax proposal and accidentally proved there was no God.

Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause.

I'm in a place where I don't know where I am!