The Air Is Zeus, Zeus Earth, And

O Death The Healer, Scorn Thou Not, I Pray, To Come To Me: Of Cureless Ills Thou Art The One Physician. Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.

High Fortune, This In Man's Eye Is God And More Than God Is This.

I Warn The Marauder Dragging Plunder, Chaotic, Rich Beyond All Rights: He'll Strike His Sails, Harried At Long Last, Stunned When The Squalls Of Torment Break His Spars To Bits.

Self-will In The Man Who Does Not Reckon Wisely Is By Itself The Weakest Of All Things.

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