To Die With Glory, If One Has

'twas But My Tongue, 'twas Not My Soul That Swore.

May He Die With No Joy At His End, The Man Who Won't Be Troubled To Unlock The Keys Of His Heart And Make A Friend.

There Seems To Be Some Pleasure For Women In Sick Talk Of One Another.

If There Are None [gods], All Our Toil Is Without Meaning.

Since We Are Mortal, Friendships Are Best Kept To A Moderate Level, Rather Than Sharing The Very Depths Of Our Souls.