Respect The Altar Of Justice And Do

We Spoil Ourselves With Scruples Long As Things Go Well.

Justice Turns The Scale, Bringing To Some Learning Through Suffering.

I Pray The Gods Some Respite From The Weary Task Of This Long Year's Watch That Lying On The Atreidae's Roof On Bended Arm, Dog- Like, I Have Kept, Marking The Conclave Of All Night's Stars, Those Potentates Blazing In The Heavens That Bring Winter And Summer To Mortal Men, The Constellations, When They Wane, When They Rise.

The Anvil Of Justice Is Planted Firm, And Fate Who Makes The Sword Does The Forging In Advance.

The Burning Gaze Of A Young Woman, Such As Hath Tasted Man, Shall Not Escape Me; For I Have A Spirit Keen To Mark These Things.