Oall the creatures that creep and breathe on earth, there is none more wretched than man.

A decent boldness ever meets with friends.

Yea, and if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure… For already have I suffered full much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war. Let this be added to the tale of those.

The skin of the coward changes color all the time, he can't get a grip on himself, he can't sit still, he squats and rocks, shifting his weight from foot to foot, his heart racing, pounding inside the fellow's ribs, his teeth chattering. He dreads some grisly death. But the skin of a brave soldier never blanches. He's all control. Tense but no great fear.

And not a man appears to tell their fate.

There is a strength in the even of very sorry men

He knew how to say many false things that were like true sayings.