Old Men Are Children Once Again A

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

Better To Die On Your Feet Than Live On Your Knees.

Once To Die Is Better Than Length Of Days In Sorrow Without End.

But Still The Block Of Vengeance Firm Doth Stand, And Fate, As Swordsmith, Hammers Blow On Blow.

The Best By Far Is To Marry In One's Own Rank.