Our poetry emulates the recent progress in military strategy: Our army's strength is the foot soldiers.

Those whom the gods chose as their property must not consort with mortals.

If someone took the finest marble and knew how to shape it artfully: Prometheus' material was lowly clay, but his statues walked.

He who takes people for smart pays an expensive lesson.

The present is never poetic as it serves necessity, necessity, however, is prosaic.

Praised be the good willing women who understand and take part in the fun--the body is an exacting beater, and even the heart is made of flesh.

No shortcomings of other people cause us to be more intolerant than those which are caricatures of our own.