Friend, many and many a dream is mere confusion a cobweb of no consequence at all. Two gates for ghostly dreams there are: One gateway of honest horn, and one of ivory. Issuing by the ivory gate are dreams of glimmering illusion, fantasies, but those that come through solid polished horn may be borne out, if mortals only know them.

Reproach is infinite, and knows no end.

Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.

Money can be exchanged for goods and services!

I would rather be a serf in a poor man's house and be above ground than reign among the dead.

All right, let's not panic. I'll make the money by selling one of my livers. I can get by with one.

The glorious gifts of the gods are not to be cast aside.