Sweet Is A Grief Well Ended.

With Our Own Feathers, Not By Others' Hands, Are We Now Smitten.

He Who Learns Must Suffer. And Even In Our Sleep Pain That Cannot Forget Falls Drop By Drop Upon The Heart, And In Our Own Despair, Against Our Will, Comes Wisdom To Us By The Awful Grace Of God.

A People's Wrath Voiced Abroad Bringeth Grave Danger, No Less Than Public Curse Pronounced.

To Be Free From Evil Thoughts Is God's Best Gift.

The Man Who Boldly Transgresses, Amassing A Great Heap Unjustly--by Force, In Time, He Will Strike His Sail, When Trouble Seizes Him As The Yardarm Is Splintered. He Calls On Those Who Hear Nothing And He Struggles In The Midst Of The Whirling Waters. The God Laughs At The Hot-headed Man, Seeing Him, Who Boasted That This Would Never Happen, Exhausted By Distress Without Remedy And Unable To Surmount The Cresting Wave. He Wrecks The Happiness Of His Earlier Life On The Reef Of Justice, And He Perishes Unwept, Unseen.