We Spoil Ourselves With Scruples Long As

Be It Mine To Draw From Wisdom's Fount, Pure As It Flows, That Calm Of Soul Which Virtue Only Knows.

There's Only Few People Who Have Strength To Honor Someone's Achievement Without Envy.

The Moving Light, Rejoicing In Its Strength, Sped From The Pyre Of Pine, And Urged Its Way, In Golden Glory, Like Some Strange New Sun.

For By The Will Of The Gods Fate Hath Held Sway Since Ancient Days.

But I Must Bear My Destiny As Best I Can, Knowing Well That There Is No Resisting The Strength Of Necessity.