Black Smoke, The Flickering Sister Of Fire.

But Let The Good Prevail.

The Act Of Evil Breeds Others To Follow, Young Sins In Its Own Likeness.

The Seed Of Mortals Broods O'er Passing Things, And Hath Nought Surer Than The Smoke-cloud's Shadow.

The Wisest Of The Wise May Err.

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