All strangers and beggars are from Zeus, and a gift, though small, is precious.

For too much rest becomes a pain.

Life and death are balanced as it were on the edge of a razor

It is the bold man who every time does best, at home or abroad.

The minds of the everlasting gods are not changed suddenly.

We are quick to flare up, we races of men on the earth.

Clanless, lawless, homeless is he who is in love with civil war, that brutal ferocious thing.