No Season Now For Calm, Familiar Talk.

Friend, Many And Many A Dream Is Mere Confusion A Cobweb Of No Consequence At All. Two Gates For Ghostly Dreams There Are: One Gateway Of Honest Horn, And One Of Ivory. Issuing By The Ivory Gate Are Dreams Of Glimmering Illusion, Fantasies, But Those That Come Through Solid Polished Horn May Be Borne Out, If Mortals Only Know Them.

And For Yourself, May The Gods Grant You Your Heart's Desire, A Husband And A Home, And The Blessing Of A Harmonious Life. For Nothing Is Greater Or Finer Than This, When A Man And Woman Live Together With One Hear And Mind, Bringing Joy To Their Friends And Grief To Their Foes.

Bear Patiently, My Heart, For You Have Suffered Heavier Things.

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.

He Knew How To Say Many False Things That Were Like True Sayings.