The Saying Goes That The Gods Leave

Whenever A Man Makes Haste, God Too Hastens With Him.

Obedience, You Know, Is Good Luck's Mother, Wedded To Salvation, They Say.

Watchful Are The Gods Of All Hands With Slaughter Stained. The Black Furies Wait, And When A Man Has Grown By Luck, Not Justice, Great, With Sudden Overturn Of Chance They Wear Him To A Shade, And, Cast Down To Perdition, Who Shall Save Him?

Old Men Are Always Young Enough To Learn With Profit.

Ah, Lives Of Men! When Prosperous They Glitter - Like A Fair Picture; When Misfortune Comes - A Wet Sponge At One Blow Has Blurred The Painting.