The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength,

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.

Everyone Is Ready To Speak Ill Of A Stranger.

It Is Like A Woman Indeed To Take Rapture Before The Fact Is Shown For True. They Believe Too Easily, Are Too Quick To Shift From Ground To Ground; And Swift Indeed The Rumor Voiced By A Woman Dies Again.

Old Men Are Children Once Again A Dream That Sways And Wavers Into The Hard Light Of Day.

For Know That No One Is Free, Except Zeus.