Too Few Rejoice At A Friend's Good

When We Sleep The Soul Is Lit Up... By Many Eyes, And With Them, We Can See Everything That We Cannot See In The Daytime.

When The Black And Mortal Blood Of Man Has Fallen To The Ground ... Who Then Can Sing Spells To Call It Back Again?

The Future You Shall Know When It Has Come; Before Then, Forget It.

Time, Waxing Old, Doth All Things Purify.

O Death The Healer, Scorn Thou Not, I Pray, To Come To Me: Of Cureless Ills Thou Art The One Physician. Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.