In Every Tyrant's Heart There Springs In

No Man Looks With Love On Deeds That To The High Gods Hateful Prove.

Neither A Life Of Anarchy Nor A Life Under A Despot Should You Praise. To All That Lies In The Middle Has A God Given Excellence.

In The Sinews Of The Dead There Is No Blood.

Overly Persuasive A Woman's Ordinance Spreads Far, Traveling Fast; But Fast Dying A Rumor Voiced By A Woman Perishes.

Sweet Is A Grief Well Ended.