There is no sickness worse for me than words that to be kind must lie.

Death is easier than a wretched life; and better never to have born than to live and fare badly.

Pain lays not its touch upon a corpse.

For the lips of Zeus do not know how to lie, but bring to fulfilment every word.

When a tongue fails to send forth appropriate shafts, there might be a word to act as healer of these.

But I will place this carefully fed pig Within the crackling oven; and, I pray, What nicer dish can e'er be given to man.

I have learned to hate all traitors, and there is no disease that I spit on more than treachery.