Zeus most glorious and most great, Thundercloud, throned in the heavens! Let not the sun go down and the darkness come, until I cast down headlong the citadel of Priam in flames, and burn his gates with blazing fire, and tear to rags the shirt upon Hectors breast! May many of his men fall about him prone in the dust and bite the earth!

Few sons are like their fathers - many are worse, few better.

And woe succeeds woe.

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, as it pleases him, for he can do all things.

By their own follies they perished, the fools.

His descent was like nightfall.

Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause.