What shall I do for pretty girlsNow my old bawd is dead?

Come swish around, my pretty punk,And keep me dancing stillThat I may stay a sober manAlthough I drink my fill.

One day this summer I was being pretty hard on the girls about their lack of intensity, and one of our seniors came to me and told me I was the one who was being too intense. So I went and got them a bunch of bags of gummy bears and we all chilled out. The next day we had one of our best practices.

Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure nor this thing nor that but simply growth, We are happy when we are growing.

How can we know the dancer from the dance?

Why should we honour those that die upon the field of battle? A man may show as reckless a courage in entering into the abyss of himself.