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In saffron-colored mantle from the tides Of Oceans rose the Morning to bright light TO gods and men.

Homer

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Homer
Author
Poet
Writer
Homerus
Homeros
Mæonides
Rose
Ocean
Saffron
Morning
Mantle
Light
Oceans
Men
Colored
Tides
Bright
Gods

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When are people going to learn? Democracy doesn't work.
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What so tedious as a twice-told tale?
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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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To have a great man for an intimate friend seems pleasant to those who have never tried it those who have, fear it.
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Few sons attain the praise Of their great sires and most their sires disgrace.
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Sleep and Death, who are twin brothers.
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For when two Join in the same adventure, one perceives Before the other how they ought to act While one alone, however prompt, resolves More tardily and with a weaker will.
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Thou shalt not horn in on thy husbands racket
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The gods give to mortals not everything at the same time.
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Shoulder-to-shoulder, swing to the work, we must - just two as we are - if we hope to make some headway. The worst cowards, banded together, have their power, but you and I have got the skill to fight their best.
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Reproach is infinite, and knows no end.
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A little child born yesterday A thing on mother's milk and kisses fed.
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Shame greatly hurts or greatly helps mankind.
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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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Hateful to me as are the gates of hell, Is he who, hiding one thing in his heart, Utters another.
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Jove lifts the golden balances that show The fates of mortal men, and things below.
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It is no bad thing to be a king-to see one's house enriched and one's authority enhanced.
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If you don't like your job, you don't strike! You just go in every day, and do it really half assed. That's the American way.
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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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Do not mourn the dead with the belly.
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