But curb thou the high spirit in thy breast, for gentle ways are best, and keep aloof from sharp contentions.
HomerMen are so quick to blame the gods: they say that we devise their misery. But they themselves- in their depravity- design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns.
HomerBut you, Achilles,/ There is not a man in the world more blest than you--/ There never has been, never will be one./ Time was, when you were alive, we Argives/ honored you as a god, and now down here, I see/ You Lord it over the dead in all your power./ So grieve no more at dying, great Achilles.โ I reassured the ghost, but he broke out protesting,/ โNo winning words about death to me, shining Odysseus!/ By god, Iโd rather slave on earth for another man--/ Some dirt-poor tenant farmer who scrapes to keep aliveโthan rule down here over all the breathless dead.
Homer