Do Not Kick Against The Pricks.

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.

God Planteth In Mortal Men The Cause Of Sin Whensoever He Wills Utterly To Destroy A House.

Death Hath A Fairer Fame Than A Life Of Toil.

When The Black And Mortal Blood Of Man Has Fallen To The Ground ... Who Then Can Sing Spells To Call It Back Again?

Many Among Men Are They Who Set High The Show Of Honor, Yet Break Justice.