With him at my side we’d go through fire and make it back alive.
Her mind was like a lion, caught by humans, when they are clustering round him in a circle, trying to trap him; so sweet drowsiness subdued her and she slept, her limbs relaxed.
Command thy vassals, but command not me.
Prophet of evil,′ he cried, ’never have you said a word to my advantage. It is always trouble that you revel in foretelling.
To you, sedition, violence and fighting are the breath of life. What if you are a great soldier – who made you so but God?
Sit still and wait for orders from your officers, who are better men than you, coward and weakling that you are, counting for nothing in battle or debate. We cannot all be kings here; and mob rule is a bad thing. Let there be one commander only, one king, set over us by Zeus the Son of Cronos of the Crooked Ways.
War is men’s business; and this war is the business of every man in Ilium, myself above all.
Zeus the Thunderer in his own person and with all solemnity made me certain promises. These you tell me to forget; and instead you would have me base my actions on the flight of birds, winged creatures who do not interest me at all – in fact I do not care whether they fly to the right towards the morning sun or to the left into the western gloom.
Take my advice then, and set aside all thoughts of avenging your son. Many a finer and stronger man than he has been killed before now and will be killed hereafter. We can hardly expect to keep our eyes on the pedigree of every man on Earth.
Hector... boast while you may. The victory is yours, a gift from Zeus the Son of Cronos and Apollo. They conquered me... Listen to this and ponder it well. You too, I swear it, have not long to live. Already sovran Destiny and Death are very close to you, death at the hands of Achilles, the peerless son of Peleus.
They that shun dishonour more often live than get killed, but they that fly save neither life nor name.
How I wish that discord could be banished from the world of gods and men, and with it anger, insidious as trickling honey, anger that makes the wisest man flare up and spreads like smoke through his whole being.
However, what is done is better left alone, though we resent it still, and we must curb our hearts perforce... as for my death, when Zeus and the other deathless gods appoint it, let it come.
The War-god has no favourites: he has been known to kill the man who thought he was going to do the killing.
Xanthus, you waste your breath by prophesying my destruction. I know well enough that I am doomed to perish here... Nevertheless, I am not going to stop until I have given the Trojans their bellyful of war.
It is the height of folly to be wise too late.
There was no room for fear in Achilles’ heart and he sprang at the Trojans with his terrible war-cry.
The young fool might have known his prayers were doomed to fail. Achilles was not kind or tender-hearted, but a man of fierce passions.
The son of Peleus pressed on in search of glory, bespattering his unconquerable hands with gore.
We men are wretched things, and the gods, who have no cares themselves, have woven sorrow into the very pattern of our lives... Zeus the Thunderer has two jars standing on the floor of his palace, in which he keeps his gifts, the evils in one and the blessings in the other.