All deaths are hateful to miserable mortals, but the most pitiable death of all is to starve.

And overpowered by memory Both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely For man - killing Hector, throbbing, crouching Before Achilles' feet as Achilles wept himself, Now for his father, now for Patroclus once again And their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house.

The other day, I was so desperate for a beer, I snuck into the football stadium and ate the dirt under the bleachers.

She threw into the wine which they were drinking a drug which takes away grief and passion and brings forgetfulness of all ills

Not vain the weakest, if their force unite.

Yet, taught by time, my heart has learned to glow for other's good, and melt at other's woe.

Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.