In the sinews of the dead there is no blood.
Nor does night conceal men’s deeds of ill, but whatsoe’er thou dost, think that some God beholds it.
The seed of mortals broods o’er passing things, and hath nought surer than the smoke-cloud’s shadow.
Whoever is just willingly and without compulsion will not lack happiness; he will never be utterly destroyed.
Old age hath stronger sense of right than youth.
Everyone is ready to speak ill of a stranger.
Even the old should learn.
Many men who transgress justice, honor appearance over reality.
For this our task hath Fate spun without fail to last for ever sure, that we on man weighed down with deeds of hate should follow till the earth his life immure. Nor when he dies can he boast of being truly free.
Simple is the speech of truth.
I warn the marauder dragging plunder, chaotic, rich beyond all rights: he’ll strike his sails, harried at long last, stunned when the squalls of torment break his spars to bits.
When a man dies, flesh is frayed and broken in the fire, but not his will.
For in the voyage of the heart, there is a freight of hatred, and the wind of wrath blows shrill.
Death hath a fairer fame than a life of toil.
Courage! Suffering, when it climbs highest, lasts not long.
For there below ground sits the Dark God, strong to call men to judgment; he sees all, and writes it in his memory.
God planteth in mortal men the cause of sin whensoever he wills utterly to destroy a house.
The gods at will can shape a gladder strain, and from the lamentations at the graveside, a song of triumph may arise.
There is a time when fear is good and ought to remain seated as a guardian of the heart.
God’s mouth knows not how to speak falsehood, but he brings to pass every word.