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Our fruitless labours mourn, And only rich in barren fame return.

Homer

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Homer
Author
Poet
Writer
Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Labour
Fame
Labor
Return
Rich
Labours
Fruitless
Barren
Mourn

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Reproach is infinite, and knows no end.
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I've gone back in time to when dinosaurs weren't just confined to zoos.
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Death submits to no one.
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She sent him a warm and gentle wind, and Lord Odysseus was happy as he set his sails to catch the breeze. He sat beside the steering oar and used his skill to steer the raft.
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To heal divisions, to relieve the oppress'd, In virtue rich in blessing others, bless'd.
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I'm satisfied. It's straight,...but it's just so hot, and I'm just so fraustrated.
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By turns the nine delight to sing
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Heaven hears and pities hapless men like me, For sacred ev'n to gods is misery.
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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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Servants, when their lords no longer sway, Their minds no more to righteous courses bend.
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What is this word that broke through the fence of your teeth, Atreides?
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Why have you come to me here, dear heart, with all these instructions? I promise you I will do everything just as you ask. But come closer. Let us give in to grief, however briefly, in each other's arms.
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All strangers and beggars are from Zeus, and a gift, though small, is precious.
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One rogue leads another.
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Which would you rather be, a conqueror in the Olympic games, or the crier that proclaims who are conquerors?
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I'm like that guy who single-handedly built the rocket and flew to the moon. What was his name? Apollo Creed?
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Zeus most glorious and most great, Thundercloud, throned in the heavens! Let not the sun go down and the darkness come, until I cast down headlong the citadel of Priam in flames, and burn his gates with blazing fire, and tear to rags the shirt upon Hectors breast! May many of his men fall about him prone in the dust and bite the earth!
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I detest the man who hides on thing in the depths of his heart and speaks forth another.
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If you serve too many masters, you'll soon suffer.
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'T is fortune gives us birth, But Jove alone endues the soul with worth.
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