Is he not sacred, even to the gods, the wandering man who comes in weariness?

The long historian of my country's woes.

If it doesn't have siamese twins in a jar, it is not a fair.

...if fifty bands of men surrounded us/ and every sword sang for your blood,/ you could make off still with their cows and sheep.

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.

Kids are great. You can teach them to hate what you hate and, with the Internet and all, they practically raise themselves.

Evil deeds do not prosper; the slow man catches up with the swift.