Not yet do you feel it. Wait for the future.
By Hecate, the goddess I worship more than all the others, the one I choose to help me in this work, who lives with me deep inside my home, these people won’t bring pain into my heart and laugh about it.
I am nothing but words, just a shape of dreams or night.
Amongst mortals no man is happy; wealth may pour in and make one luckier than another, but none can happy be.
He loves power. A terrible love.
Let no one think me a weak one, feeble-spirited, A stay-at-home, but rather just the opposite, One who can hurt my enemies and help my friends; For the lives of such persons are most remembered.
You have the skill. What is more, you were born a woman, And women, though most helpless in doing good deeds, Are of every evil the cleverest of contrivers.
Isn’t it delightful to forget how old we are?
Yes, blood for blood, his bitter loan came due. He paid with death.
We must not think too much: people go mad if they think too much.
Of most dreadful suffering, I am the cause.
I have pondered on the causes of a life’s shipwreck. I think that our lives are worse than the mind’s quality would warrant. There are many who know virtue. We know the good, we apprehend it clearly. But we can’t bring it to achievement.
Yes, I can endure guilt, however horrible; The laughter of my enemies I will not endure. Now.
What greater sorrow than being forced to leave behind my native earth?
No mortal ever knows happiness and good fortune all the way to the end. Each one is born with his bitterness waiting for him.
O gods, spare me the sight of this thankless breed, these politicians who cringe for favors from a screaming mob and do not care what harm they do their friends, providing they can please a crowd! Tell me, on what feeble grounds can you justify your vote of death?
If only the herdsman had not brought him up with the flocks, not reared him, Paris, Alexander, to watch his flock by the clear springs where the nymphs rise, and the rich pastures starred with roses and hyacinths for the goddesses to gather.
Again, again your mind has changed course with the wind. For you think now of godly things ignored when you worked dreadful deeds on your brother against his will.
It would have been better far for men To have got their children in some other way, and women Not to have existed. Then life would have been good. CHORUS.
Rashness in a leader causes failure; the sailor of a ship is calm, wise at the proper time. Yes, and forethought: this too is bravery.