If You Pour Oil And Vinegar Into

So In The Libyan Fable It Is Told That Once An Eagle, Stricken With A Dart, Said, When He Saw The Fashion Of The Shaft: With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others' Hands, Are We Now Smitten.

I Pray The Gods Some Respite From The Weary Task Of This Long Year's Watch That Lying On The Atreidae's Roof On Bended Arm, Dog- Like, I Have Kept, Marking The Conclave Of All Night's Stars, Those Potentates Blazing In The Heavens That Bring Winter And Summer To Mortal Men, The Constellations, When They Wane, When They Rise.

If A Man Should Wanton Walk With Crime ... He Shall Find In Death No Great Deliverance.

The Man Who Does Ill, Ill Must Suffer Too.

For There Is No Defense For A Man Who, In The Excess Of His Wealth, Has Kicked The Great Altar Of Justice Out Of Sight.