For In The Voyage Of The Heart,

You Shall Learn, Though Late, The Lesson Of How To Be Discreet.

Words Are The Parents Of A Causeless Wrath.

The So-called Mother Of The Child Isn't The Child's Begetter, But Only A Sort Of Nursing Soil For The New-sown Seed. The Man, The One On Top, Is The True Parent, While She, A Stranger, Foster's A Stranger's Sprout.

God's Mouth Knows Not How To Speak Falsehood, But He Brings To Pass Every Word.

Of All The Gods, Death Only Craves Not Gifts: Nor Sacrifice, Nor Yet Drink-offering Poured Avails; No Altars Hath He, Nor Is Soothed By Hymns Of Praise. From Him Alone Of All The Powers Of Heaven Persuasion Holds Aloof.