For It Would Be Better To Die

I Willingly Speak To Those Who Know, But For Those Who Do Not Know I Forget.

In The Sinews Of The Dead There Is No Blood.

Report Uttered By The People Is Everywhere Of Great Power.

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?

For A Deadly Blow Let Him Pay With A Deadly Blow: It Is For Him Who Has Done A Deed To Suffer.