Of men who have a sense of honor, more come through alive than are slain, but from those who flee comes neither glory nor any help.
Clanless, lawless, homeless is he who is in love with civil war, that brutal ferocious thing.
Miserable mortals who like leaves at one moment flame with life eating the produce of the land and at another moment weakly perish.
I would rather be tied to the soil as a serf... than be king of all these dead and destroyed.
The glorious gifts of the gods are not to be cast aside.
I, for one, know of no sweeter sight for a man's eyes than his own country.