Miserable mortals who like leaves at one moment flame with life eating the produce of the land and at another moment weakly perish.

Why, you could wake up dead tomorrow

Thus have the gods spun the thread for wretched mortals: that they live in grief while they themselves are without cares; for two jars stand on the floor of Zeus of the gifts which he gives, one of evils and another of blessings.

Words empty as the wind are best left unsaid.

The internet wasn't created for mockery, it was supposed to help researchers at different universities share data sets. It was!

We mortals hear only the news, and know nothing at all.

And his good wife will tear her cheeks in grief, his sons are orphans and he, soaking the soil red with his own blood, he rots away himself-more birds than women flocking round his body!