I have no interest at all in food and drink, but only in slaughter and blood and the agonized groans of mangled men
Nothing feebler does earth nurture than man, Of all things breathing and moving.
Like strength is felt from hope, and from despair.
Over the wine-dark sea.
The tongue of man is a twisty thing, there are plenty of words there of every kind.
Clanless, lawless, homeless is he who is in love with civil war, that brutal ferocious thing.