A man's life breath cannot come back again-- no raiders in force, no trading brings it back, once it slips through a man's clenched teeth.
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.
You, why are you so afraid of war and slaughter? Even if all the rest of us drop and die around you, grappling for the ships, you’d run no risk of death: you lack the heart to last it out in combat—coward!
Why have you come to me here, dear heart, with all these instructions? I promise you I will do everything just as you ask. But come closer. Let us give in to grief, however briefly, in each other's arms.
All things are in the hand of heaven, and Folly, eldest of Jove's daughters, shuts men's eyes to their destruction. She walks delicately, not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men to make them stumble or to ensnare them.
Still, we will let all this be a thing of the past, though it hurts us, and beat down by constraint the anger that rises inside us. Now I am making an end of my anger. It does not become me, unrelentingly to rage on
Nay if even in the house of Hades the dead forget their dead, yet will I even there be mindful of my dear comrade.
His descent was like nightfall.
But listen to me first and swear an oath to use all your eloquence and strength to look after me and protect me.
It is entirely seemly for a young man killed in battle to lie mangled by the bronze spear. In his death all things appear fair.
Beauty! Terrible Beauty! A deathless Goddess-- so she strikes our eyes!
Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause.
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