By Turns The Nine Delight To Sing

Even Were Sleep Is Concerned, Too Much Is A Bad Thing.

Two Diverse Gates There Are Of Bodiless Dreams, These Of Sawn Ivory, And Those Of Horn. Such Dreams As Issue Where The Ivory Gleams Fly Without Fate, And Turn Our Hopes To Scorn. But Dreams Which Issue Through The Burnished Horn, What Man Soe'er Beholds Them On His Bed, These Work With Virtue And Of Truth Are Born.

Behold, On Wrong Swift Vengeance Waits; And Art Subdues The Strong.

There Is Satiety In All Things, In Sleep, And Love-making, In The Loveliness Of Singing And The Innocent Dance.

The Single Best Augury Is To Fight For One's Country.