Of Prosperity Mortals Can Never Have Enough.

His Resolve Is Not To Seem The Bravest, But To Be.

I, Schooled In Misery, Know Many Purifying Rites, And I Know Where Speech Is Proper And Where Silence.

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

It Is Always The Season For The Old To Learn.

When A Match Has Equal Partners Then I Fear Not.