Hungry Wailing Standeth Not Aloof.

Bronze Is The Mirror Of Form, Wine Of The Heart.

The Man Who Does Ill, Ill Must Suffer Too.

Don't Try To Make Intelligent Decisions When Your Brain Is Hyped

Watchful Are The Gods Of All Hands With Slaughter Stained. The Black Furies Wait, And When A Man Has Grown By Luck, Not Justice, Great, With Sudden Overturn Of Chance They Wear Him To A Shade, And, Cast Down To Perdition, Who Shall Save Him?

Time Brings All Things To Pass.