And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, he rots away himself-more birds than women flocking round his body!
After the event, even a fool is wise.
I long for home, long for the sight of home.
I didn't lie! I just created fiction with my mouth!
I'm a rageaholic. I just can't live without rageahol.
I won't lie to you, fatherhood isn't easy like motherhood.