The Windy Satisfaction Of The Tongue.

They Did Not Know Her-gods Are Hard For Mortals To Recognize.

If Not Yet Lost To All The Sense Of Shame.

Let Him Submit To Me! Only The God Of Death Is So Relentless, Death Submits To No One—so Mortals Hate Him Most Of All The Gods. Let Him Bow Down To Me! I Am The Greater King, I Am The Elder-born, I Claim—the Greater Man.

I'm Not A Bath Man Myself. More Of A Cologne Man.

That Is The Gods' Work, Spinning Threads Of Death Through The Lives Of Mortal Men, An All To Make A Song For Those To Come.