Do Not Mourn The Dead

It Is Not Possible To Fight Beyond Your Strength, Even If You Strive.

To Labour Is The Lot Of Man Below; And When Jove Gave Us Life, He Gave Us Woe.

The Chance Of War Is Equal, And The Slayer Oft Is Slain.

All Things Are In The Hand Of Heaven, And Folly, Eldest Of Jove's Daughters, Shuts Men's Eyes To Their Destruction. She Walks Delicately, Not On The Solid Earth, But Hovers Over The Heads Of Men To Make Them Stumble Or To Ensnare Them.

For Too Much Rest Becomes A Pain.