Arrogance is truly the child of impiety, but from health of soul comes happiness, dear to all, much prayed for.
What good is it to live a life that brings pains?
For the marriage bed ordained by fate for men and women is stronger than an oath and guarded by Justice.
The will was of Zeus, the hand of Hephaestus.
For this our task hath Fate spun without fail to last for ever sure, that we on man weighed down with deeds of hate should follow till the earth his life immure. Nor when he dies can he boast of being truly free.
Neither a life of anarchy nor a life under a despot should you praise. To all that lies in the middle has a god given excellence.
But from the good health of the mind comes that which is dear to all and the object of prayer-happiness.
Courage! Suffering, when it climbs highest, lasts not long.
Whenever a man makes haste, God too hastens with him.
What is there more kindly than the feeling between host and guest?
His resolve is not to seem the bravest, but to be.
Justice shines in very smoky homes, and honors the righteous; but the gold-spangled mansions where the hands are unclean she leaves with eyes averted.
Of all the gods, Death only craves not gifts: Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed By hymns of praise. From him alone of all The powers of heaven Persuasion holds aloof.
Unions in wedlock are perverted by the victory of shameless passion that masters the female among men and beasts.
When we sleep the soul is lit up... by many eyes, and with them, we can see everything that we cannot see in the daytime.
I pray the gods some respite from the weary task of this long year's watch that lying on the Atreidae's roof on bended arm, dog- like, I have kept, marking the conclave of all night's stars, those potentates blazing in the heavens that bring winter and summer to mortal men, the constellations, when they wane, when they rise.
Nor does night conceal men's deeds of ill, but whatsoe'er thou dost, think that some God beholds it.
For mortal kind taketh thought only for the day, and hath no more surety than the shadow of smoke.
May dawn, as the proverb goes, bring happy tidings coming from her mother night.
Old age hath stronger sense of right than youth.
Sweet is a grief well ended.
Mourn for me rather as living than as dead.
Obedience is the mother of success and is wedded to safety.
It is always in season for old men to learn.
In visions of the night, like dropping rain, Descend the many memories of pain.
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