Where There Is No Wine There Is

A Slave Is He Who Cannot Speak His Thoughts.

Power Gives No Purchase To The Hand, It Will Not Hold, Soon Perishes, And Greatness Goes.

In Every Work A Reward Added Makes The Pleasure Twice As Great.

All Is Change; All Yields Its Place And Goes.

A Sweet Thing, For Whatever Time, To Revisit In Dreams The Dear Dad We Have Lost.