There is a fullness of all things, even of sleep and love.

The only monster here is the gambling monster that has enslaved your mother, and I call him Gamblor!

Pffft, English. Who needs that? I'm never going to England.

She threw into the wine which they were drinking a drug which takes away grief and passion and brings forgetfulness of all ills

…but there they lay, sprawled across the field, craved far more by the vultures than by wives.

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.

There will be killing till the score is paid.