For A Deadly Blow Let Him Pay

I, Schooled In Misery, Know Many Purifying Rites, And I Know Where Speech Is Proper And Where Silence.

They Who Prosper Take On Airs Of Vanity.

Learning Is Ever In The Freshness Of Its Youth, Even For The Old.

For There Below Ground Sits The Dark God, Strong To Call Men To Judgment; He Sees All, And Writes It In His Memory.

On Him Who Wields Power Gently, The God Looks Favorably From Afar.