Truly Upon Mortals Cometh Swift Of Foot

May Dawn, As The Proverb Goes, Bring Happy Tidings Coming From Her Mother Night.

Remember To Be Submissive, Thou Art Analien, A Fugitive, And In Need.

The Saying Goes That The Gods Leave A Town Once It Is Captured.

God Lends A Helping Hand To The Man Who Tries Hard.

I Pray The Gods Some Respite From The Weary Task Of This Long Year's Watch That Lying On The Atreidae's Roof On Bended Arm, Dog- Like, I Have Kept, Marking The Conclave Of All Night's Stars, Those Potentates Blazing In The Heavens That Bring Winter And Summer To Mortal Men, The Constellations, When They Wane, When They Rise.