The full range of emotions, including the ability to express rage, is available only to the most powerful beings in the Homeric universe: deities and the greatest men.
The imagery suggests a parallel between anger and the myth of the Wooden Horse: it is welcomed in, like a gift, but insidiously becomes destructive to the enraged person himself as well as those around him.
But the female “trophies” seized in war are desirable as markers of status, not because of any romantic connection.
But wrath, not love or grief, is the dominant divine emotion.
Death enables human communities, and stories.
A double chance of destiny impends: If here remaining, round the walls of Troy I wage the war, I ne’er shall see my home, But then undying glory shall be mine: If I return, and see my native land, 490 My glory all is gone; but length of life Shall then be mine, and death be long deferr’d.
The worst fears of every hero will come true. All their labor will be for nothing, their names lost, their bodies left as carrion, and the landscape of the plain between the two rivers, which seems so irreparably marked by the struggles of the characters, will revert back to its.
You already know the story. You will die. Everyone you love will also die. You will lose them forever. You will be sad and angry. You will weep. You will bargain. You will make demands. You will beg. You will pray. It will make no difference. Nothing you can do will bring them back. You know this. Your knowing changes nothing. This poem will make you understand this unfathomable truth again and again, as if for the very first time.
Then Hector, stooping, seiz’d a pond’rous stone 490 That lay before the gates; ’twas broad below, But sharp above; and scarce two lab’ring men, The strongest, from the ground could raise it up, And load upon a wain; as men are now; But he unaided lifted it with ease, 495 So light it seem’d, by grace of Saturn’s son. As in one hand a shepherd bears with ease A full-siz’d fleece, and scarcely feels the weight;.
A royal robe he wore with graceful pride, A two-edged falchion threaten’d by his side, Embroider’d sandals glitter’d as he trod, And forth he moved, majestic as a god.
Poor fool! He did not know the plans of Zeus.
The choice of Odysseus is parallel to the choice of Achilles, in that it is a decision to be mortal in order to gain a particular kind of masculine honor. If Odysseus had stayed with Calypso, he would have been alive forever, and never grown old; but he would have been forever subservient to a being more powerful than himself.
The beautiful word minunthadios, “short-lived,” is used of both Achilles and Hector, and applies to all of us.
Sweethearts, you are a terrible disgrace – Greek girls, not men.
But Hector, stooping, shunn’d the stroke of death. Withdrawing then their weapons, each on each They fell, like lions fierce, or tusked boars, In strength the mightiest of the forest beasts.
Odysseus has often done great things. He forms good plans and marshals troops for war. But now he has performed his greatest service for all of us – he silenced that rude windbag! Thersites will not come back here again, led by his strong proud heart to criticize the rulers with insulting words.
All of you, go eat your dinner and prepare for Ares.
The limitless wrath of Achilles can end only once he recognizes that no absolute, permanent victory is ever possible. Everyone must bear unbearable losses, for which no compensation could ever be enough. In the end, we all lose. Our best hope is to accept partial, temporary limits on conflict, accepting human companionship and community as our only, always inadequate compensation, for the pervasive experience of loss.
Each man sacrificed 400 to one of the immortal gods and prayed he would survive the struggle set by Ares.
The race of man is as the race of leaves: Of leaves, one generation by the wind Is scattered on the earth; another soon In spring’s luxuriant verdure bursts to light.