Ruin, eldest daughter of Zeus, she blinds us all, that fatal madness—she with those delicate feet of hers, never touching the earth, gliding over the heads of men to trap us all. She entangles one man, now another.
It is not unseemly for a man to die fighting in defense of his country.
Is he not sacred, even to the gods, the wandering man who comes in weariness?
The rest were vulgar deaths unknown to fame.
Do I know what rhetorical means?
Ah, beer, my one weakness. My Achille's heel, if you will.