Like a girl, a baby running after her mother, begging to be picked up, and she tugs on her skirts, holding her back as she tries to hurry off—all tears, fawning up at her, till she takes her in her arms… That’s how you look, Patroclus, streaming live tears.

The gods give to mortals not everything at the same time.

Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies And sure he will for Wisdom never lies.

Of all creatures that breathe and move upon the earth, nothing is bred that is weaker than man.

Ah, good ol’ trustworthy beer. My love for you will never die.

Behold, on wrong Swift vengeance waits; and art subdues the strong.

'Yea and I beheld Sisyphus in strong torment, grasping a monstrous stone with both his hands. He was pressing thereat with hands and feet, and trying to roll the stone upward toward the brow of the hill. But oft as he was about to hurl it over the top, the weight would drive him back, so once again to the plain rolled the stone, the shameless thing. And he once more kept heaving and straining, and the sweat the while was pouring down his limbs, and the dust rose upwards from his head.