For In The Voyage Of The Heart,

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 By The Will Of The Gods Fate Hath Held Sway Since Ancient Days.

It Is Through Suffering That Learning Comes.

Whenever A Man Makes Haste, God Too Hastens With Him.

When A Tongue Fails To Send Forth Appropriate Shafts, There Might Be A Word To Act As Healer Of These.