Everything is more beautiful because we're doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.

Must you have battle in your heart forever? The bloody toil of combat? Old contender, will you not yield to the immortal gods? That nightmare cannot die, being eternal evil itself – horror, and pain, and chaos; there is no fighting her, no power can fight her. All that avails is flight.

Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the storyof that man skilled in all ways of contending,the wanderer, harried for years on end

but sing no more this bitter tale that wears my heart away

And what if one of the gods does wreck me out on the wine-dark sea? I have a heart that is inured to suffering and I shall steel it to endure that too. For in my day I have had many bitter and painful experiences in war and on the stormy seas. So let this new disaster come. It only makes one more.

My mother Thetis tells me that there are two ways in which I may meet my end. If I stay here and fight, I will not return alive but my name will live forever: whereas if I go home my name will die, but it will be long ere death shall take me.

Nothing is more miserable than man, Of all upon the earth that breathes and creeps.