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Bear patiently, my heart, for you have suffered heavier things.

Homer

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Homer
Author
Poet
Writer
Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Patiently
Suffered
Funeral
Bear
Bears
Suffering
Heart
Things
Heavier

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Blame the guy who doesn't speak Engish.
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First you don't want me to get the pony, then you want me to take it back. Make up your mind!
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Ah, good ol’ trustworthy beer. My love for you will never die.
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It is equally bad when one speeds on the guest unwilling to go, and when he holds back one who is hastening. Rather one should befriend the guest who is there, but speed him when he wishes.
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Proud is the spirit of Zeus-fostered kings - their honor comes from Zeus, and Zeus, god of council, loves them.
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It is better to watch people do stuff than to do stuff.
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My wife's not some doobie to be passed around! I took a vow on our wedding day to bogart her for life.
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Men in their generations are like the leaves of the trees. The wind blows and one year's leaves are scattered on the ground but the trees burst into bud and put on fresh ones when the spring comes round.
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Beauty- it was a glorious gift of nature.
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Victory passes back and forth between men.
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A councilor ought not to sleep the whole night through, a man to whom the populace is entrusted, and who has many responsibilities.
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And endless are the modes of speech, and far Extends from side to side the field of words.
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To heal divisions, to relieve the oppress'd, In virtue rich in blessing others, bless'd.
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...if fifty bands of men surrounded us/ and every sword sang for your blood,/ you could make off still with their cows and sheep.
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A little child born yesterday A thing on mother's milk and kisses fed.
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Thus have the gods spun the thread for wretched mortals: that they live in grief while they themselves are without cares for two jars stand on the floor of Zeus of the gifts which he gives, one of evils and another of blessings.
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Porkchops and bacon, my two favorite animals.
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[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.
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Be still my heart thou hast known worse than this.
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Our fruitless labours mourn, And only rich in barren fame return.
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