Fear Hurries On My Tongue Through Want

Only When A Man's Life Comes To Its End In Prosperity Dare We Pronounce Him Happy.

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.

For Mortal Kind Taketh Thought Only For The Day, And Hath No More Surety Than The Shadow Of Smoke.

It Is Best For The Wise Man Not To Seem Wise.

When A Match Has Equal Partners Then I Fear Not.