Obedience Is The Mother Of

It Is The Nature Of Mortals To Kick A Fallen Man.

The Great And Amorous Sky Curved Over The Earth, And Lay Upon Her As A Pure Lover. The Rain, The Humid Flux Descending From Heaven For Both Man And Animal, For Both Thick And Strong, Germinated The Wheat, Swelled The Furrows With Fecund Mud And Brought Forth The Buds In The Orchards. And It Is I Who Empowered These Moist Espousals, I The Great Aphrodite.

Unjustly Men Hate Death, Which Is The Greatest Defence Against Their Many Ills.

With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others' Hands, Are We Now Smitten.

Fortune Is For All, Judgment Is Theirs Who Have Won It For Themselves.