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

But curb thou the high spirit in thy breast, for gentle ways are best, and keep aloof from sharp contentions.

Ill fares the State where many masters rule; let one be lord, one king supreme.

Which would you rather be, a conqueror in the Olympic games, or the crier that proclaims who are conquerors?

It never was our guise to slight the poor, or aught humane despise.

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

Zeus does not bring all men's plans to fulfillment.