For In Pure Maidens, Knowing Not The

It Is An Easy Thing For One Whose Foot Is On The Outside Of Calamity To Give Advice And To Rebuke The Sufferer.

Watchful Are The Gods Of All Hands With Slaughter Stained. The Black Furies Wait, And When A Man Has Grown By Luck, Not Justice, Great, With Sudden Overturn Of Chance They Wear Him To A Shade, And, Cast Down To Perdition, Who Shall Save Him?

Don't You Know This, That Words Are Doctors To A Diseased Temperment?

God Always Strives Together With Those Who Strive.

No One Can Count The Terrors That The Earth Spawns, Catastrophic, Gruesome, And The Vast Arms Of The Sea Swarm With Brute Monsters Bent On Harm, And Everywhere Between The Sky And Ground Lights Bloom By Day In Flares And Sudden Bolts; And Birds And Beasts Alike Can Tell Of The Whirlwind's Whirling Wrath.