God Planteth In Mortal Men

And Though All Streams Flow From A Single Course To Cleanse The Blood From Polluted Hand, They Hasten On Their Course In Vain.

Only One Accomplishment Is Beyond Both The Power And The Mercy Of The Gods. They Cannot Make The Past As Though It Had Never Been.

Words Are The Parents Of A Causeless Wrath.

Bronze Is The Mirror Of Form, Wine Of The Heart.

It Is Not The Oath That Makes Us Believe The Man, But The Man The Oath.