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In every sorrowing soul I pour'd delight, And poverty stood smiling in my sight.

Homer

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Homer
Author
Poet
Writer
Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Every
Pour
Philanthropy
Smiling
Stood
Delight
Sight
Poverty
Soul
Sorrowing

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But listen to me first and swear an oath to use all your eloquence and strength to look after me and protect me.
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And bear unmov'd the wrongs of base mankind, The last, and hardest, conquest of the mind.
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Look, I'm not asking you to like me, I'm not asking you to put yourself in a position where I can touch your goodies, I'm just asking you to be fair.
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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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