Necessity Is Stronger Far Than Art.

I Warn The Marauder Dragging Plunder, Chaotic, Rich Beyond All Rights: He'll Strike His Sails, Harried At Long Last, Stunned When The Squalls Of Torment Break His Spars To Bits.

What Is There More Kindly Than The Feeling Between Host And Guest?

When The Black And Mortal Blood Of Man Has Fallen To The Ground ... Who Then Can Sing Spells To Call It Back Again?

We Must Pronounce Him Fortunate Who Has Ended His Life In Fair Prosperity.

Alas, Poor Men, Their Destiny. When All Goes Well A Shadow Will Overthrow It. If It Be Unkind One Stroke Of A Wet Sponge Wipes All The Picture Out.