Call No Man Happy Till He Is

Neither A Life Of Anarchy Nor A Life Under A Despot Should You Praise. To All That Lies In The Middle Has A God Given Excellence.

Success! To Thee, As To A God, Men Bend The Knee.

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.

The Act Of Evil Breeds Others To Follow, Young Sins In Its Own Likeness.

But When Once The Earth Has Sucked Up A Dead Man's Blood, There Is No Way To Raise Him Up.