Only when a man's life comes to its end in prosperity dare we pronounce him happy.

O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray, To come to me: of cureless ills thou art The one physician. Pain lays not its touch Upon a corpse.

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.

It is the nature of mortals to kick a fallen man.

ATHENA: You wish to be called righteous rather than act right. [...] I say, wrong must not win by technicalities.

Every ruler is harsh whose laws is new.

Base men who prosper are unenviable.