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Proud is the spirit of Zeus-fostered kings - their honor comes from Zeus, and Zeus, god of council, loves them.
Homer
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Homer
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Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Honor
Proud
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Zeus
Council
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Kings
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No season now for calm, familiar talk.
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If you are very valiant, it is a god, I think, who gave you this gift.
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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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The other day, I was so desperate for a beer, I snuck into the football stadium and ate the dirt under the bleachers.
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It is not good to have a rule of many.
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Look at me! I'm a puffy pink cloud!
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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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A decent boldness ever meets with friends.
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One who journeying Along a way he knows not, having crossed A place of drear extent, before him sees A river rushing swiftly toward the deep, And all its tossing current white with foam, And stops and turns, and measures back his way.
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Of men who have a sense of honor, more come through alive than are slain, but from those who flee comes neither glory nor any help.
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...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.
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This is the way I've always thought it should be. We've always blamed ourselves, but I guess we know what cylinder wasn't firing!
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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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We all scribble poetry.
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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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The outcome of the war is in our hands the outcome of words is in the council.
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