My life is more to me than all the wealth of Ilius
I only hope those rumors I hear about what goes on in prison are greatly exaggerated.
Look, I'm not asking you to like me, I'm not asking you to put yourself in a position where I can touch your goodies, I'm just asking you to be fair.
Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold; Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold, Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway, Can bribe the poor possession of the day.
A small rock holds back a great wave.
A man's life breath cannot come back again-- no raiders in force, no trading brings it back, once it slips through a man's clenched teeth.
I war not with the dead.
If you don't like your job, you don't strike! You just go in every day, and do it really half assed. That's the American way.
Accept these grateful tears...For thee they flow, for thee... That ever felt another's woe.
Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.
Dreams are sent by God.
A glorious death is his, who for his country falls.
Know from the bounteous heaven all riches flow.
We all scribble poetry.
I am a part of all that I have met. Yet, experience is an arch wherethro gleams that untravl'd world whose margin fades forever and forever when I move.
Not two strong men the enormous weight could raise,- Such men as live in these degenerate days.
It's man's to fight, but heaven's to give success.
For I am yearning to visit the limits of the all-nurturing Earth, and Oceans, from whom the gods are sprung.
[B]ut it is only what happens, when they die, to all mortals. The sinews no longer hold the flesh and the bones together, and once the spirit has let the white bones, all the rest of the body is made subject to the fire's strong fury, but the soul flitters out like a dream and flies away.
These nights are endless, and a man can sleep through them, or he can enjoy listening to stories, and you have no need to go to bed before it is time. Too much sleep is only a bore. And of the others, any one whose heart and spirit urge him can go outside and sleep, and then, when the dawn shows, breakfast first, then go out to tend the swine of our master. But we two, sitting here in the shelter, eating and drinking, shall entertain each other remembering and retelling our sad sorrows. For afterwards a man who has suffered much and wandered much has pleasure out of his sorrows.
For Fate has wove the thread of life with pain, And twins ev'n from the birth are Misery and Man!
O Friends, be men, and let your hearts be strong And let no warrior in the heat of fight, Do what may bring him shame in others' eyes
And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, he rots away himself-more birds than women flocking round his body!
The sun rose on the flawless brimming sea into a sky all brazen-all one brightening for gods immortal and for mortal men on plowlands kind with grain.
His native home deep imag'd in his soul.
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