Of All Things Upon Earth

For The Good, When Praised, Feel Something Of Disgust, If To Excess Commended.

Wrath Brings Mortal Men Their Gravest Hurt.

My Hands Are Clean, But My Heart Has Somewhat Of Impurity.

Youth Holds No Society With Grief.

Who Then Will Dare To Say I'm Weak Or Timid? No, They'll Say I'm Loyal As A Friend, Ruthless As A Foe, So Much Like A Hero Destined For Glory.