Black Smoke, The Flickering Sister Of Fire.

Sweet Is A Grief Well Ended.

In The Sinews Of The Dead There Is No Blood.

The Great And Amorous Sky Curved Over The Earth, And Lay Upon Her As A Pure Lover. The Rain, The Humid Flux Descending From Heaven For Both Man And Animal, For Both Thick And Strong, Germinated The Wheat, Swelled The Furrows With Fecund Mud And Brought Forth The Buds In The Orchards. And It Is I Who Empowered These Moist Espousals, I The Great Aphrodite.

The Unenvied Man Is Not Enviable.

It Is The Nature Of Mortals To Kick A Fallen Man.