Whoever obeys the gods, to him they particularly listen.

We all scribble poetry.

The gods, likening themselves to all kinds of strangers, go in various disguises from city to city, observing the wrongdoing and the righteousness of men.

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

To be loved, you have to be nice to people, everyday. But to be hated, you don't have to do squat!

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

[I]t is the wine that leads me on, the wild wine that sets the wisest man to sing at the top of his lungs, laugh like a fool – it drives the man to dancing... it even tempts him to blurt out stories better never told.