One who contends with immortals lives a very short life.
Nay if even in the house of Hades the dead forget their dead, yet will I even there be mindful of my dear comrade.
Generations of men are like the leaves. In winter, winds blow them down to earth, but then, when spring season comes again, the budding wood grows more. And so with men: one generation grows, another dies away.
The strong must protect the sweet.
It is wrong to sorrow without ceasing.
The other day, I was so desperate for a beer, I snuck into the football stadium and ate the dirt under the bleachers.