Ares Ever Loves To Pluck All The

No Bribes. Nothing That Passes Under The Roof Of A Temple Or Under The Roof Of The Mouth, Can Appease Heaven's Anger Or Deflect Its Aim.

Rumours Voiced By Women Come To Nothing.

Words Are Healers Of The Sick Tempered.

The Holy Heaven Yearns To Wound The Earth, And Yearning Layeth Hold On The Earth To Join In Wedlock; The Rain, Fallen From The Amorous Heaven, Impregnates The Earth, And It Bringeth Forth For Mankind The Food Of Flocks And Herds And Demeter's Gifts; And From That Moist Marriage-rite The Woods Put On Their Bloom.

I Willingly Speak To Those Who Know, But For Those Who Do Not Know I Forget.