Ah how shameless – the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone they say come all their miseries yes but they themselves with their own reckless ways compound their pains beyond their proper share.

Know from the bounteous heaven all riches flow.

Oh, my tattered rags are caught on your coffee table.

For I am yearning to visit the limits of the all-nurturing Earth, and Oceans, from whom the gods are sprung.

You can't go wrong with cocktail weenies. They look as good as they taste. And they come in this delicious red sauce. It looks like ketchup, it tastes like ketchup, but brother, it ain't ketchup!

She threw into the wine which they were drinking a drug which takes away grief and passion and brings forgetfulness of all ills

The tongue of man is a twisty thing.