Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who travelled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy.

The minds of the everlasting gods are not changed suddenly.

I didn't lie! I just created fiction with my mouth!

For rarely are sons similar to their fathers: most are worse, and a few are better than their fathers.

The melancholy joys of evils pass'd, For he who much has suffer'd, much will know.

Better to flee from death than feel its grip.

It is tedious to tell again tales already plainly told.