There Is No Greater Fame For A

And Rest At Last Where Souls Unbodied Dwell, In Ever-flowing Meads Of Asphodel.

I War Not With The Dead.

Few Sons Are Equal To Their Fathers; Most Fall Short, All Too Few Surpass Them.

Life Is Not To Be Bought With Heaps Of Gold; Not All Apollo's Pythian Treasures Hold, Or Troy Once Held, In Peace And Pride Of Sway, Can Bribe The Poor Possession Of The Day.

What Is This Word That Broke Through The Fence Of Your Teeth, Atreides?