Life is short, yet sweet.

Since luck's a nine days' wonder, wait their end.

Arm yourself, my heart: the thing that you must do is fearful, yet inevitable.

What greater pain could mortals have than this: To see their children dead before their eyes?

The daughters of Sparta are never at home! They mingle with the young men in wrestling matches.

He is life's liberating force. He is release of limbs and communion through dance. He is laughter, and music in flutes. He is repose from all cares -- he is sleep! When his blood bursts from the grape and flows across tables laid in his honor to fuse with our blood, he gently, gradually, wraps us in shadows of ivy-cool sleep.

I envy that man who passes through life safely, to the world and fame unknown.