Fear Hurries On My Tongue Through Want

Self-will In The Man Who Does Not Reckon Wisely Is By Itself The Weakest Of All Things.

No One Can Count The Terrors That The Earth Spawns, Catastrophic, Gruesome, And The Vast Arms Of The Sea Swarm With Brute Monsters Bent On Harm, And Everywhere Between The Sky And Ground Lights Bloom By Day In Flares And Sudden Bolts; And Birds And Beasts Alike Can Tell Of The Whirlwind's Whirling Wrath.

Words Are Healers Of The Sick Tempered.

Success Is Man's God.

For A Murderous Blow Let Murderous Blow Atone.