Platitude: All That Is Mortal Of A Departed Truth.
Unhappy Is The Soul Enslaved By The Love Of Anything That Is Mortal.
To Be Saved Is Here, Local And Mortal
To Be Saved Is Here, Local And Mortal
A Sip Is The Most Than Mortals Are Permitted From Any Goblet Of Delight.
To Be Fortunate Is God, And More Than God To Mortals.
To Many Mortals Silence Great Gain Brings.
For Mortal Kind Taketh Thought Only For The Day, And Hath No More Surety Than The Shadow Of Smoke.
