In Visions Of The Night, Like Dropping

Unjustly Men Hate Death, Which Is The Greatest Defence Against Their Many Ills.

Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.

Arrogance Is Truly The Child Of Impiety, But From Health Of Soul Comes Happiness, Dear To All, Much Prayed For.

Time, Waxing Old, Doth All Things Purify.

Wisdom Comes Through Suffering. Trouble, With Its Memories Of Pain, Drips In Our Hearts As We Try To Sleep, So Men Against Their Will Learn To Practice Moderation. Favours Come To Us From Gods.