For The Lips Of Zeus Do Not

For Sufferers It Is Sweet To Know Before-hand Clearly The Pain That Still Remains For Them.

From A Just Fraud God Turneth Not Away.

O Death The Healer, Scorn Thou Not, I Pray, To Come To Me: Of Cureless Ills Thou Art The One Physician. Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.

Simple Is The Speech Of Truth.

No Bribes. Nothing That Passes Under The Roof Of A Temple Or Under The Roof Of The Mouth, Can Appease Heaven's Anger Or Deflect Its Aim.