Of all the gods, Death only craves not gifts: Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed By hymns of praise. From him alone of all The powers of heaven Persuasion holds aloof.
But let the good prevail.
Words are the physicians of a mind diseased.
When a man takes the road to destruction, the gods help him along.
I know how men in exile feed on dreams.
There is a limit to the best of health, disease is always a near neighbor.