When love is in excess, it brings a man no honor, no worthiness.
He is life's liberating force. He is release of limbs and communion through dance. He is laughter, and music in flutes. He is repose from all cares -- he is sleep! When his blood bursts from the grape and flows across tables laid in his honor to fuse with our blood, he gently, gradually, wraps us in shadows of ivy-cool sleep.
High honors are sweet To a man's heart, but ever They stand close to the brink of grief.
Men honor property above all else; it has the greatest power in human life.
Men make their choice: one man honors one God, and one another.
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