[I]t is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine that sets the wisest man to sing at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool – it drives the man to dancing... it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told.

We men are wretched things.

Oall the creatures that creep and breathe on earth, there is none more wretched than man.

Old people don't need companionship. They need to be isolated and studied so it can be determined what nutrients they have that might be extracted for our personal use.

Hateful to me as are the gates of hell, Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, Utters another.

And not a man appears to tell their fate.

How delicate her feet who shuns the ground, Stepping a-tiptoe on the heads of men.