And now I'm using sarcasm, to confess the whole thing so later I could say I already told you.
Who love too much, hate in the like extreme.
It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize, And to be swift is less than to be wise.
Achilles absent was Achilles still!
Few sons are like their fathers - many are worse, few better.
How delicate her feet who shuns the ground, Stepping a-tiptoe on the heads of men.