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down from his brow she ran his curls like thick hyacinth clusters full of blooms
Homer
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Homer
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Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
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The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
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He knew how to say many false things that were like true sayings.
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Two diverse gates there are of bodiless dreams, These of sawn ivory, and those of horn. Such dreams as issue where the ivory gleams Fly without fate, and turn our hopes to scorn. But dreams which issue through the burnished horn, What man soe'er beholds them on his bed, These work with virtue and of truth are born.
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They did not know her-gods are hard for mortals to recognize.
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I live an idle burden to the ground.
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Two urns on Jove's high throne have ever stood, the source of evil one, and one of good from thence the cup of mortal man he fills, blessings to these, to those distributes ills to most he mingles both.
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