From A Small Seed A Mighty Trunk

High Fortune, This In Man's Eye Is God And More Than God Is This.

To Be Free From Evil Thoughts Is God's Best Gift.

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?

The Force Of Necessity Is Irresistible.

I, Schooled In Misery, Know Many Purifying Rites, And I Know Where Speech Is Proper And Where Silence.