We Live In A Society Of Laws.

Oh, My Tattered Rags Are Caught On Your Coffee Table.

Guns Aren't Toys! They're For Family Protection, Hunting Dangerous Or Delicious Animals, And Keeping The King Of England Out Of Your Face!

Zeus Most Glorious And Most Great, Thundercloud, Throned In The Heavens! Let Not The Sun Go Down And The Darkness Come, Until I Cast Down Headlong The Citadel Of Priam In Flames, And Burn His Gates With Blazing Fire, And Tear To Rags The Shirt Upon Hectors Breast! May Many Of His Men Fall About Him Prone In The Dust And Bite The Earth!

I Would Rather Be Tied To The Soil As A Serf... Than Be King Of All These Dead And Destroyed.

Dreams Surely Are Difficult, Confusing, And Not Everything In Them Is Brought To Pass For Mankind. For Fleeting Dreams Have Two Gates: One Is Fashioned Of Horn And One Of Ivory. Those Which Pass Through The One Of Sawn Ivory Are Deceptive, Bringing Tidings Which Come To Nought, But Those Which Issue From The One Of Polished Horn Bring True Results When A Mortal Sees Them.