This Is The Law: Blood Spilt Upon

When A Tongue Fails To Send Forth Appropriate Shafts, There Might Be A Word To Act As Healer Of These.

Destiny Waits Alike For The Free Man As Well As For Him Enslaved By Another's Might.

Sweet Is A Grief Well Ended.

Even The Old Should Learn.

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.