In The Sinews Of The Dead There

It Is An Ill Thing To Be The First To Bring News Of Ill.

It Is Like A Woman Indeed To Take Rapture Before The Fact Is Shown For True. They Believe Too Easily, Are Too Quick To Shift From Ground To Ground; And Swift Indeed The Rumor Voiced By A Woman Dies Again.

The Man Who Boldly Transgresses, Amassing A Great Heap Unjustly--by Force, In Time, He Will Strike His Sail, When Trouble Seizes Him As The Yardarm Is Splintered. He Calls On Those Who Hear Nothing And He Struggles In The Midst Of The Whirling Waters. The God Laughs At The Hot-headed Man, Seeing Him, Who Boasted That This Would Never Happen, Exhausted By Distress Without Remedy And Unable To Surmount The Cresting Wave. He Wrecks The Happiness Of His Earlier Life On The Reef Of Justice, And He Perishes Unwept, Unseen.

Necessity Is Stronger Far Than Art.

Self-will In The Man Who Does Not Reckon Wisely Is By Itself The Weakest Of All Things.