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Many among men are they who set high the show of honor, yet break justice.
Aeschylus
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Aeschylus
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Elefsina
Æschylus
Aeschylos
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The anvil of justice is planted firm, and fate who makes the sword does the forging in advance.
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Ares ever loves to pluck all the fairest flower of an armed host.
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And now it goes as it goes and where it ends is Fate. And neither by singeing flesh nor tipping cups of wine nor shedding burning tears can you enchant away the rigid Fury.
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