Many Men Who Transgress Justice,

Once To Die Is Better Than Length Of Days In Sorrow Without End.

And Now It Goes As It Goes And Where It Ends Is Fate. And Neither By Singeing Flesh Nor Tipping Cups Of Wine Nor Shedding Burning Tears Can You Enchant Away The Rigid Fury.

When A Tongue Fails To Send Forth Appropriate Shafts, There Might Be A Word To Act As Healer Of These.

Search Well And Be Wise, Nor Believe That Self-willed Pride Will Ever Be Better Than Good Counsel.

The Field Of Doom Bears Death As Its Harvest.