No Season Now For Calm, Familiar Talk.

My Hour At Last Has Come; Yet Not Ingloriously Or Passively I Die, But First Will Do Some Valiant Deed, Of Which Mankind Shall Hear In After Time.

A Sympathetic Friend Can Be Quite As Dear As A Brother.

Hunger Is Insolent, And Will Be Fed.

Whoever Among Men Who Walk The Earth Has Seen These Mysteries Is Blessed, But Whoever In Uninitiated And Has Not Received His Share Of The Rite, He Will Not Have The Same Lot As The Others, Once He Is Dead And Dwells In The Mould Where The Sun Goes Down.

Anger, Which, Far Sweeter Than Trickling Drops Of Honey, Rises In The Bosom Of A Man Like Smoke.