When a tongue fails to send forth appropriate shafts, there might be a word to act as healer of these.

Black smoke, the flickering sister of fire.

Human prosperity never rests but always craves more, till blown up with pride it totters and falls. From the opulent mansions pointed at by all passers-by none warns it away, none cries, 'Let no more riches enter!'.

Good fortune is a god among men, and more than a god.

For the mighty, even to give away is grace.

I willingly speak to those who know, but for those who do not know I forget.

For somehow this is tyranny's disease, to trust no friends.