The son of Saturn gave The nod with his dark brows. The ambrosial curls Upon the Sovereign One’s immortal head Were shaken, and with them the mighty mount, Olympus trembled.
Ajax the great Himself a host.
I live an idle burden to the ground.
Lay ye down the golden chain From Heaven, and pull at its inferior links Both Goddesses and Gods.
No season now for calm, familiar talk.
There is nothing more dread and more shameless than a woman who plans such deeds in her heart as the foul deed which she plotted when she contrived her husband’s murder.
One who journeying Along a way he knows not, having crossed A place of drear extent, before him sees A river rushing swiftly toward the deep, And all its tossing current white with foam, And stops and turns, and measures back his way.
The god of war is impartial: he hands out death to the man who hands out death.
Many shining actions owe their success to chance, though the general or statesman receive the applause.
The whims of youth break all the rules.
Strife, only a slight thing when she first rears her head but her head soon hits the sky as she strides across the earth.
One man is a splendid fighter – a god has made him so – one’s a dancer, another skilled at lyre and song, and deep in the next man’s chest farseeing Zeus plants the gift of judgment, good clear sense. And many reap the benefits of that treasure.
So peaceful shalt thou end thy blissful days, And steal thyself from life by slow decays.
It is wrong to be sorry without ceasing.
From now on walking is my beer and feeling good is my hangover.
Death submits to no one.
Base wealth preferring to eternal praise.
The gods, likening themselves to all kinds of strangers, go in various disguises from city to city, observing the wrongdoing and the righteousness of men.
He lives not long who battles with the immortals, nor do his children prattle about his knees when he has come back from battle and the dread fray.
He knew the things that were and the things that would be and the things that had been before.