Thou Shalt Not Take Moochers Into Thy

All Strangers And Beggars Are From Zeus, And A Gift, Though Small, Is Precious.

Come, Weave Us A Scheme So I Can Pay Them Back! Stand Beside Me, Athena, Fire Me With Daring, Fierce As The Day We Ripped Troy's Glittering Crown Of Towers Down. Stand By Me - Furious Now As Then, My Bright-eyed One - And I Would Fight Three Hundred Men, Great Goddess, With You To Brace Me, Comrade-in-arms In Battle!

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.

Like The Generations Of Leaves, The Lives Of Mortal Men. Now The Wind Scatters The Old Leaves Across The Earth, Now The Living Timber Bursts With The New Buds And Spring Comes Round Again. And So With Men: As One Generation Comes To Life, Another Dies Away.

The Man Does Better Who Runs From Disaster Than He Who Is Caught By It.