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

One rogue leads another.

There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.

Strife and Confusion joined the fight, along with cruel Death, who seized one wounded man while still alive and then another man without a wound, while pulling the feet of one more corpse out from the fight. The clothes Death wore around her shoulders were dyed red with human blood.

Pray, for all men need the aid of the gods.

The ugliest man was he who came to Troy; with squinting eyes and one distorted foot.

Never to be cast away are the gifts of the gods, magnificent, which they give of their own will, no man could have them for wanting them.