[but] Age, The Common Enemy Of Mankind,

[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.

You Never Know When An Old Calendar Might Come In Handy! Sure, It's Not 1985 Right Now, But Who Knows What Tomorrow Will Bring?

Our Fruitless Labours Mourn, And Only Rich In Barren Fame Return.

Insignificant Mortals, Who Are As Leaves Are, And Now Flourish And Grow Warm With Life, And Feed On What The Ground Gives, But Then Again Fade Away And Are Dead.

Servants, When Their Lords No Longer Sway, Their Minds No More To Righteous Courses Bend.