The man who acts the least, upbraids the most.

Two diverse gates there are of bodiless dreams, These of sawn ivory, and those of horn. Such dreams as issue where the ivory gleams Fly without fate, and turn our hopes to scorn. But dreams which issue through the burnished horn, What man soe'er beholds them on his bed, These work with virtue and of truth are born.

Forget the brother and resume the man.

Whatever day Makes man a slave, takes half his worth away.

For never, never, wicked man was wise.

And not a man appears to tell their fate.

Is he not sacred, even to the gods, the wandering man who comes in weariness?

I have no interest at all in food and drink, but only in slaughter and blood and the agonized groans of mangled men

Just are the ways of heaven; from Heaven proceed The woes of man: Heaven doom'd the Greeks to bleed.