He lives not long who battles with the immortals, nor do his children prattle about his knees when he has come back from battle and the dread fray.

I have no interest at all in food and drink, but only in slaughter and blood and the agonized groans of mangled men

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.

I've gone back in time to when dinosaurs weren't just confined to zoos.

Do not beg me by knees or by parents you dog! I only wish I were savagely wrathful enough to hack up your corpse and eat it raw

Porkchops and bacon, my two favorite animals.

It was built against the will of the immortal gods, and so it did not last for long.