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

Come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.

One omen is best, to fight in defense of one's country.

A boy without mischief is like a bowling ball without a liquid center.

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

Over the wine-dark sea.

She sent him a warm and gentle wind, and Lord Odysseus was happy as he set his sails to catch the breeze. He sat beside the steering oar and used his skill to steer the raft.