All my life I've been an obese man trapped inside a fat man's body.

Friend, many and many a dream is mere confusion a cobweb of no consequence at all. Two gates for ghostly dreams there are: One gateway of honest horn, and one of ivory. Issuing by the ivory gate are dreams of glimmering illusion, fantasies, but those that come through solid polished horn may be borne out, if mortals only know them.

[But] age, the common enemy of mankind, has laid his hand upon you; would that it had fallen upon some other, and that you were still young.

Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave.

The journey is the thing.

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

He lives not long who battles with the immortals, nor do his children prattle about his knees when he has come back from battle and the dread fray.