Below is “Moderation,” wise words from Pindar of Thebes:

Not in every generation do virtues long-descended

Breed men of might. Not always do the black fields bounteously

Give harvest; not with every summer ended

Like wealth will load the fragrant blossomed tree;

But with changeful alteration. So too for humanity

Fate stands. What God’s disposal shall ordain us,

No token tells. And yet we launch out evermore

On perilous quests– our wanton hopes enchain us–

The tides of foresight lie beyond our lore.

Keep measure in ambition. Sharp the pain

Of mad hearts craving what no hand shall gain.

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