Goddess-nurse of the young, give ear to my prayer, and grant that this woman may reject the love-embraces of youth and dote on grey-haired old men whose powers are dulled, but whose hearts still desire.

It [revenge] is sweeter far than flowing honey.

I, for one, know of no sweeter sight for a man's eyes than his own country.

'T is fortune gives us birth, But Jove alone endues the soul with worth.

Not at all similar are the race of the immortal gods and the race of men who walk upon the earth.

And overpowered by memory Both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely For man - killing Hector, throbbing, crouching Before Achilles' feet as Achilles wept himself, Now for his father, now for Patroclus once again And their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house.

Never to be cast away are the gifts of the gods, magnificent, which they give of their own will, no man could have them for wanting them.