Had I Succeeded Well, I

I Care For Riches, To Make Gifts To Friends, Or Lead A Sick Man Back To Health With Ease And Plenty. Else Small Aid Is Wealth For Daily Gladness; Once A Man Be Done With Hunger, Rich And Poor Are All As One.

Terrible Is The Force Of The Waves Of Sea, Terrible Is The Rush Of The River And The Blasts Of Hot Fire, And Terrible Are A Thousand Other Things; But None Is Such A Terrible Evil As Woman.

Ten Soldiers Wisely Led Will Beat A Hundred Without A Head.

A Slave Is He Who Cannot Speak His Thoughts.

Alas, How Right The Ancient Saying Is: We, Who Are Old, Are Nothing Else But Noise And Shape. Like Mimicries Of Dreams We Go, And Have No Wits, Although We Think Us Wise.