By Turns The Nine Delight

Let Him Submit To Me! Only The God Of Death Is So Relentless, Death Submits To No One—so Mortals Hate Him Most Of All The Gods. Let Him Bow Down To Me! I Am The Greater King, I Am The Elder-born, I Claim—the Greater Man.

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End So Voluble A Weapon Is The Tongue; Wounded, We Wound; And Neither Side Can Fail For Every Man Has Equal Strength To Rail.

What So Tedious As A Twice-told Tale?

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End.

Evil Deeds Do Not Prosper; The Slow Man Catches Up With The Swift.