Shenron: Speak. Name your wish. Say it now and it will be so granted.
With all thy sober charms possest,Whose wishes never learnt to stray.
What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
What folly can be ranker. Like our shadows,Our wishes lengthen as our sun declines.
Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.
Believe me, I wish that I could just wish away my feelings, but I can't.
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought:I stay too long by thee, I weary thee.
Man wants but little here below,Nor wants that little long.
Wishing, of all employments is the worst.
Jeannie: Your wish is my command, Master.
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