For there is no defense for a man who, in the excess of his wealth, has kicked the great altar of Justice out of sight.
Time cleanses what it touches over time.
Bronze is the mirror of form, wine of the heart.
Beyond age, leaf withered, man goes three footed no stronger than a child is, a dream that falters in daylight.
The future you shall know when it has come; before then, forget it.
May dawn, as the proverb goes, bring happy tidings coming from her mother night.