Not Vain The Weakest, If Their Force

Do Not Mourn The Dead With The Belly.

Immortals Are Never Alien To One Another.

The Generation Of Mankind Is Like The Generation Of Leaves. The Wind Scatters The Leaves On The Ground, But The Living Tree Burgeons With Leaves Again In The Spring.

Bad Herdsmen Waste The Flocks Which Thou Hast Left Behind.

You, Why Are You So Afraid Of War And Slaughter? Even If All The Rest Of Us Drop And Die Around You, Grappling For The Ships, You’d Run No Risk Of Death: You Lack The Heart To Last It Out In Combat—coward!