I wish that strife would vanish away from among gods and mortals, and gall, which makes a man grow angry for all his great mind, that gall of anger that swarms like smoke inside of a man's heart and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.

Pffft, English. Who needs that? I'm never going to England.

Hunger is insolent, and will be fed.

Sweet sleep fell upon his eyelids, unwakeful, most pleasant, the nearest like death.

By hook or by crook this peril too shall be something that we remember

It's about time trees were good for something, instead of just standing there like jerks!

It's disgraceful how these humans blame the gods. They say their tribulations come from us, when they themselves, through their own foolishness, bring hardships which are not decreed by Fate.