That is the gods' work, spinning threads of death through the lives of mortal men, an all to make a song for those to come.
I would rather be a serf in a poor man's house and be above ground than reign among the dead.
Better to flee from death than feel its grip.
Better to live or die, once and for all, than die by inches.
A man's life breath cannot come back again-- no raiders in force, no trading brings it back, once it slips through a man's clenched teeth.
And they die an equal death — the idler and the man of mighty deeds.
Death submits to no one.
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