From A Small Seed A Mighty Trunk

In The Sinews Of The Dead There Is No Blood.

For The Impious Act Begets More After It, Like To The Parent Stock.

There Is No Sickness Worse For Me Than Words That To Be Kind Must Lie.

When A Man's Willing And Eager The God's Join In.

For The Poison Of Hatred Seated Near The Heart Doubles The Burden For The One Who Suffers The Disease; He Is Burdened With His Own Sorrow, And Groans On Seeing Another's Happiness.