Memory is the mother of all wisdom.
There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.
Wisdom comes through suffering. Trouble, with its memories of pain, Drips in our hearts as we try to sleep, So men against their will Learn to practice moderation. Favours come to us from gods.
Chorus: Zeus, who guided men to think who laid it down that wisdom comes alone through suffering. Still there drips in sleep against the heart grief of memory; against our pleasure we are temperate.
When a match has equal partners then I fear not.
In visions of the night, like dropping rain, Descend the many memories of pain.
For there below ground sits the Dark God, strong to call men to judgment; he sees all, and writes it in his memory.
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