There Is No Disgrace In An Enemy

Pain Lays Not Its Touch Upon A Corpse.

The Holy Heaven Yearns To Wound The Earth, And Yearning Layeth Hold On The Earth To Join In Wedlock; The Rain, Fallen From The Amorous Heaven, Impregnates The Earth, And It Bringeth Forth For Mankind The Food Of Flocks And Herds And Demeter's Gifts; And From That Moist Marriage-rite The Woods Put On Their Bloom.

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

In War The First Casualty Is The Truth.

Alas For The Affairs Of Men! When They Are Fortunate You Might Compare Them To A Shadow; And If They Are Unfortunate, A Wet Sponge With One Dash Wipes The Picture Away.