It Is Easy When We

For A Single Path Leads To The House Of Hades.

A Man Dies Not For The Many Wounds That Pierce His Breast, Unless It Be That Life's End Keep Pace With Death, Nor By Sitting On His Hearth At Home Doth He The More Escape His Appointed Doom.

O Death The Healer, Scorn Thou Not, I Pray, To Come To Me: Of Cureless Ills Thou Art The One Physician. Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.

Obedience, You Know, Is Good Luck's Mother, Wedded To Salvation, They Say.

Against Necessity, Against Its Strength, No One Can Fight And Win.