Our Fruitless Labours Mourn, And Only Rich

By Their Own Follies They Perished, The Fools.

Of All Creatures That Breathe And Move Upon The Earth, Nothing Is Bred That Is Weaker Than Man.

Restrain Yourself... And Gloat In Silence. I'll Have No Jubilation Here. It Is An Impious Thing To Exult Over The Slain.

Nothing In The World Is So Incontinent As A Man's Accursed Appetite.

The Blade Itself Incites To Deeds Of Violence.