Not Vain The Weakest, If

And Rest At Last Where Souls Unbodied Dwell, In Ever-flowing Meads Of Asphodel.

The Outcome Of The War Is In Our Hands; The Outcome Of Words Is In The Council.

Know From The Bounteous Heaven All Riches Flow.

Better To Flee From Death Than Feel Its Grip.

Men Are So Quick To Blame The Gods: They Say That We Devise Their Misery. But They Themselves- In Their Depravity- Design Grief Greater Than The Griefs That Fate Assigns.