In War, Truth Is The First Casualty.

When A Man Takes The Road To Destruction, The Gods Help Him Along.

It Is Not The Oath That Makes Us Believe The Man, But The Man The Oath.

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

The Seed Of Mortals Broods O'er Passing Things, And Hath Nought Surer Than The Smoke-cloud's Shadow.

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.