Is he not sacred, even to the gods, the wandering man who comes in weariness?
We cannot all hope to combine the pleasing qualities of good looks, brains, and eloquence.
I can't even say the word 'titmouse' without giggling like a schoolgirl.
Without a sign, his sword the brave man draws, and asks no omen, but his country's cause.
Modesty is of no use to a beggar.
Thus have the gods spun the thread for wretched mortals: that they live in grief while they themselves are without cares; for two jars stand on the floor of Zeus of the gifts which he gives, one of evils and another of blessings.