The Man Who Does Ill, Ill Must

I Willingly Speak To Those Who Know, But For Those Who Do Not Know I Forget.

No One Can Count The Terrors That The Earth Spawns, Catastrophic, Gruesome, And The Vast Arms Of The Sea Swarm With Brute Monsters Bent On Harm, And Everywhere Between The Sky And Ground Lights Bloom By Day In Flares And Sudden Bolts; And Birds And Beasts Alike Can Tell Of The Whirlwind's Whirling Wrath.

If A Man Suffers Ill, Let It Be Without Shame; For This Is The Only Profit When We Are Dead. You Will Never Say A Good Word About Deeds That Are Evil And Disgraceful.

Wiles And Deceit Are Female Qualities.

Watchful Are The Gods Of All Hands With Slaughter Stained. The Black Furies Wait, And When A Man Has Grown By Luck, Not Justice, Great, With Sudden Overturn Of Chance They Wear Him To A Shade, And, Cast Down To Perdition, Who Shall Save Him?