Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.
The wine urges me on, the bewitching wine, which sets even a wise man to singing and to laughing gently and rouses him up to dance and brings forth words which were better unspoken.
A generous friendship no cold medium knows, Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; One should our interests and our passions be, My friend must hate the man that injures me.
I want to be alone with my thought.
This is the way I've always thought it should be. We've always blamed ourselves, but I guess we know what cylinder wasn't firing!
Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heaven my fame.
Suffering is but another name for the teaching of experience, which is the parent of instruction and the schoolmaster of life.
I detest the man who hides on thing in the depths of his heart and speaks forth another.
The life, which others pay, let us bestow, And give to fame what we to nature owe.
And rest at last where souls unbodied dwell, In ever-flowing meads of Asphodel.
A boy without mischief is like a bowling ball without a liquid center.
Over the wine-dark sea.
No trust is to be placed in women.
Nothing feebler does earth nurture than man, Of all things breathing and moving.
Wide-sounding Zeus takes away half a man's worth on the day when slavery comes upon him.
Nay if even in the house of Hades the dead forget their dead, yet will I even there be mindful of my dear comrade.
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.
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.
...if fifty bands of men surrounded us/ and every sword sang for your blood,/ you could make off still with their cows and sheep.
Why cover the same ground again? ... It goes against my grain to repeat a tale told once, and told so clearly.
Once you go Vatican, you never go back again.
I didn't lie! I just created fiction with my mouth!
The God of War will see fair play-he's often slain that wants to slay!
Zeus it seems has given us from youth to old age a nice ball of wool to wind-nothing but wars upon wars until we shall perish every one.
Clanless, lawless, homeless is he who is in love with civil war, that brutal ferocious thing.
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