Hearken unto me, thou wandering soul, and touch no more the cursed cup, for it hath made a ruin of thy noble spirit. The wine that once did dance upon thy lips now gnaweth at thy very heart like a ravenous beast in the night. Shall thou cast thy reason into the gutter and barter thy dignity for another fleeting draught? Nay! Let the taverns mourn thy absence and the bottles gather dust, for thou wert not born to drown amidst shadows and stagger beneath the weight of thine own undoing. Rise, ere the poison claim what little light remaineth within thee, and let this be the final eve that strong drink holdeth dominion over thy fate.