Death Hath A Fairer Fame Than A

The Tongue Of Slander Is Too Prompt With Wanton Malice To Wound The Stranger.

Truly Upon Mortals Cometh Swift Of Foot Their Evil And His Offence Upon Him That Trespasseth Against Right.

I Warn The Marauder Dragging Plunder, Chaotic, Rich Beyond All Rights: He'll Strike His Sails, Harried At Long Last, Stunned When The Squalls Of Torment Break His Spars To Bits.

Better To Die On Your Feet Than Live On Your Knees.

Against Necessity, Against Its Strength, No One Can Fight And Win.