Three Things Remain With Us

Your Fame Is As The Grass, Whose Hue Comes And Goes, And His Might Withers It By Whose Power It Sprang From The Lap Of The Earth.

It Is Necessity And Not Pleasure That Compels Us.

As Phantoms Frighten Beasts When Shadows Fall.

O Human Race, Born To Fly Upward, Wherefore At A Little Wind Dost Thou So Fall?

Honor Is The Greatest Poet.