For The Mighty, Even To Give Away

Mourn For Me Rather As Living Than As Dead.

With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others' Hands, Are We Now Smitten.

Ah, Lives Of Men! When Prosperous They Glitter - Like A Fair Picture; When Misfortune Comes - A Wet Sponge At One Blow Has Blurred The Painting.

It Is Always The Season For The Old To Learn.

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.