I'm Not A Bath Man Myself. More

[but] Age, The Common Enemy Of Mankind, Has Laid His Hand Upon You; Would That It Had Fallen Upon Some Other, And That You Were Still Young.

Few Sons Are Equal To Their Fathers; Most Fall Short, All Too Few Surpass Them.

To Heal Divisions, To Relieve The Oppress'd, In Virtue Rich; In Blessing Others, Bless'd.

Better To Flee From Death Than Feel Its Grip.

I Detest The Man Who Hides On Thing In The Depths Of His Heart And Speaks Forth Another.