Better To Die On Your Feet Than

Justice Shines In Very Smoky Homes, And Honors The Righteous; But The Gold-spangled Mansions Where The Hands Are Unclean She Leaves With Eyes Averted.

Death Is Easier Than A Wretched Life; And Better Never To Have Born Than To Live And Fare Badly.

I, Schooled In Misery, Know Many Purifying Rites, And I Know Where Speech Is Proper And Where Silence.

Nor Does Night Conceal Men's Deeds Of Ill, But Whatsoe'er Thou Dost, Think That Some God Beholds It.

Alas For The Affairs Of Men! When They Are Fortunate You Might Compare Them To A Shadow; And If They Are Unfortunate, A Wet Sponge With One Dash Wipes The Picture Away.