A God Implants In Mortal Guilt Whenever

I Pray The Gods Some Respite From The Weary Task Of This Long Year's Watch That Lying On The Atreidae's Roof On Bended Arm, Dog- Like, I Have Kept, Marking The Conclave Of All Night's Stars, Those Potentates Blazing In The Heavens That Bring Winter And Summer To Mortal Men, The Constellations, When They Wane, When They Rise.

Making It A Valid Law To Learn By Suffering.

[hermes Addresses Prometheus :] To You, The Clever And Crafty, Bitter Beyond All Bitterness, Who Has Sinned Against The Gods In Bestowing Honors Upon Creatures Of A Day--to You, Thief Of Fire, I Speak.

For Somehow This Is Tyranny's Disease, To Trust No Friends.

Obedience, You Know, Is Good Luck's Mother, Wedded To Salvation, They Say.