To Many Mortals Silence Great Gain Brings.

The Burning Gaze Of A Young Woman, Such As Hath Tasted Man, Shall Not Escape Me; For I Have A Spirit Keen To Mark These Things.

Too Few Rejoice At A Friend's Good Fortune.

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?

We Shall Perish By Guile Just As We Slew.

Obedience Is The Mother Of Success And Is Wedded To Safety.