The Will Was Of Zeus, The Hand

My Will Is Mine...i Shall Not Make It Soft For You.

But Still The Block Of Vengeance Firm Doth Stand, And Fate, As Swordsmith, Hammers Blow On Blow.

Don't You Know This, That Words Are Doctors To A Diseased Temperment?

For Not Many Men, The Proverb Saith, Can Love A Friend Whom Fortune Prospereth Unenvying.

And Though All Streams Flow From A Single Course To Cleanse The Blood From Polluted Hand, They Hasten On Their Course In Vain.