If You Serve Too Many Masters, You'll

Thou Wilt Lament Hereafter, When The Evil Shall Be Done And Shall Admit No Cure.

Two Diverse Gates There Are Of Bodiless Dreams, These Of Sawn Ivory, And Those Of Horn. Such Dreams As Issue Where The Ivory Gleams Fly Without Fate, And Turn Our Hopes To Scorn. But Dreams Which Issue Through The Burnished Horn, What Man Soe'er Beholds Them On His Bed, These Work With Virtue And Of Truth Are Born.

It Is A Wise Child That Knows His Own Father. [lat., Nondum Enim Quisquam Suum Parentem Ipse Cognosvit.]

The Blade Itself Incites To Deeds Of Violence.

No Man Or Woman Born, Coward Or Brave, Can Shun His Destiny.