'Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with hands and feet, and trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill. But oft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him back, so once again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing. And he once more kept heaving and straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his head.

It is the bold man who every time does best, at home or abroad.

We're goin bowling. If we don't come back, avenge our deaths.

The tongue of man is a twisty thing.

It is not right to glory in the slain

The gods, likening themselves to all kinds of strangers, go in various disguises from city to city, observing the wrongdoing and the righteousness of men.

What greater glory attends a man than what he wins with his racing feet and his striving hands?