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War spares not the brave, but the cowardly.

Anacreon

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Anacreon
Epigrammatist
Hofmeister
Poet
Writer
Cowardly
Spares
Brave
War

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Thus, while I quaff the genial wine, I live mid transports quite divine.
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For when we quaff the gen'rous bowl, Then sleep the sorrows of our soul. Let us drink the juice divine, The gift of Bacchus, god of wine. When I take wine, my cares go to rest.
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My Passion uncontrolled shall rove, Doubly debauched with Wine and Love.
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Life is like a chariot-wheel that ever rolls along.
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And last of all comes death.
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How the waves of the sea kiss the shore!
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He who has a mind to fight, let him fight, for now is the time.
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Today is ours what do we fear? Today is ours: we have it here. Let's treat it kindly, that it may Wish at least with us to stay.
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Ah, cruel 'tis to love, And cruel not to love, But cruelest of all To love and love in vain.
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I both love and do not love and am mad and not mad.
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Let others seek renown in arms For me wine's wars have greater charms: Then fill the bowl, boy fill it high: 'Tis better drunk, than dead to lie.
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To-day belongs to me, To-morrow who can tell.
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Cursed be he above all others Who's enslaved by love of money. Money takes the place of brothers, Money takes the place of parents, Money brings us war and slaughter.
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The sea drinks the air and the sun the sea.
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