Death Hath A Fairer Fame Than A

Once To Die Is Better Than Length Of Days In Sorrow Without End.

May Dawn, As The Proverb Goes, Bring Happy Tidings Coming From Her Mother Night.

The Act Of Evil Breeds Others To Follow, Young Sins In Its Own Likeness.

On Me The Tempest Falls. It Does Not Make Me Tremble. O Holy Mother Earth, O Air And Sun, Behold Me. I Am Wronged.

Self-will In The Man Who Does Not Reckon Wisely Is By Itself The Weakest Of All Things.