The Hideous God Of War.

How Soar Sweet Music Is, When Time Is Broke, And No Proportion Kept!

Policy Sits Above Conscience.

Wait For The Season When To Cast Good Counsels Upon Subsiding Passion.

He That Is Proud Eats Up Himself: Pride Is His Own Glass, His Own Trumpet, His Own Chronicle.

Minutes, Hours, Days, Months, And Years, Pass'd Over To The End They Were Created, Would Bring White Hairs Unto A Quiet Grave. Ah, What A Life Were This!