If not yet lost to all the sense of shame.

I too shall lie in the dust when I am dead, but now let me win noble renown.

The journey is the thing.

Is he not sacred, even to the gods, the wandering man who comes in weariness?

Don't mess with the dead, boy, they have eerie powers.

And would'st thou evil for his good repay?

Who ne'er knew salt, or heard the billows roar.