Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

But Since The Affairs Of Men Rests Still Incertain, Let's Reason With The Worst That May Befall.

When A Wise Man Gives Thee Better Counsel, Give Me Mine Again.

For As A Surfeit Of The Sweetest Things The Deepest Loathing To The Stomach Brings, Or As Tie Heresies That Men Do Leave Are Hated Most Of Those They Did Deceive, So Thou, My Surfeit And My Heresy, Of All Be Hated, But The Most Of Me!

Love Thrives Not In The Heart That Shadows Dreadeth

Thus Die I, Thus, Thus, Thus. Now Am I Dead, Now Am I Fled; My Soul Is In The Sky: Tongue, Lose Thy Light; Moon Take Thy Flight. Now Die, Die, Die, Die, Die.