Success Is Man's God.

It Is A Profitable Thing, If One Is Wise, To Seem Foolish.

Nought Is There In Wealth That Serves As Bulwark 'gainst The Subtle Stealth Of Destiny And Doom.

Number, The Most Excellent Of All Inventions.

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.

A God Implants In Mortal Guilt Whenever He Wants Utterly To Confound A House.