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She threw into the wine which they were drinking a drug which takes away grief and passion and brings forgetfulness of all ills

Homer

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Homer
Author
Poet
Writer
Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Wine
Drug
Takes
Ills
Passion
Forgetfulness
Away
Threw
Brings
Drinking
Grief

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Victory passes back and forth between men.
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We are quick to flare up, we races of men on the earth.
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Like a girl, a baby running after her mother, begging to be picked up, and she tugs on her skirts, holding her back as she tries to hurry off—all tears, fawning up at her, till she takes her in her arms… That’s how you look, Patroclus, streaming live tears.
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We got a little rule back home: If it's brown, drink it down. If it's black, send it back.
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A woman is a lot like a refrigerator. Six feet tall, 300 pounds...it makes ice.
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One rogue leads another.
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Restrain yourself... and gloat in silence. I'll have no jubilation here. It is an impious thing to exult over the slain.
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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.
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Clanless, lawless, homeless is he who is in love with civil war, that brutal ferocious thing.
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There is nothing alive more agonized than man / of all that breathe and crawl across the earth.
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If you are very valiant, it is a god, I think, who gave you this gift.
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It is not strength, but art, obtains the prize, And to be swift is less than to be wise.
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The rule Of the many is not well. One must be chief In war and one the king.
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Our fruitless labours mourn, And only rich in barren fame return.
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Goddess-nurse of the young, give ear to my prayer, and grant that this woman may reject the love-embraces of youth and dote on grey-haired old men whose powers are dulled, but whose hearts still desire.
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A shamefaced man makes a bad beggar.
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Rather I'd choose laboriously to bear A weight of woes, and breathe the vital air, A slave to some poor hind that toils for bread, Than reign the sceptred monarch of the dead.
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By their own follies they perished, the fools.
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What is this word that broke through the fence of your teeth, Atreides?
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Look now how mortals are blaming the gods, for they say that evils come from us, but in fact they themselves have woes beyond their share because of their own follies.
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