Black Smoke, The Flickering Sister Of Fire.

In War, Truth Is The First Casualty.

O Death The Healer, Scorn Thou Not, I Pray, To Come To Me: Of Cureless Ills Thou Art The One Physician. Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.

The Tongue Of Slander Is Too Prompt With Wanton Malice To Wound The Stranger.

It Is A Profitable Thing, If One Is Wise, To Seem Foolish.

For There Is No Defense For A Man Who, In The Excess Of His Wealth, Has Kicked The Great Altar Of Justice Out Of Sight.