Evil Deeds Do Not Prosper; The Slow

The Son Of Saturn Gave The Nod With His Dark Brows. The Ambrosial Curls Upon The Sovereign One's Immortal Head Were Shaken, And With Them The Mighty Mount, Olympus Trembled.

A Guest Never Forgets The Host Who Has Treated Him Kindly.

My Hour At Last Has Come; Yet Not Ingloriously Or Passively I Die, But First Will Do Some Valiant Deed, Of Which Mankind Shall Hear In After Time.

Insignificant Mortals, Who Are As Leaves Are, And Now Flourish And Grow Warm With Life, And Feed On What The Ground Gives, But Then Again Fade Away And Are Dead.

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End.