Restrain yourself... and gloat in silence. I'll have no jubilation here. It is an impious thing to exult over the slain.

A companion's words of persuasion are effective.

By Jove the stranger and the poor are sent, and what to those we give, to Jove is lent.

Like the generations of leaves, the lives of mortal men. Now the wind scatters the old leaves across the earth, now the living timber bursts with the new buds and spring comes round again. And so with men: as one generation comes to life, another dies away.

Rage - Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses, hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls, great fighters' souls, but made their bodies carrion, feasts for the dogs and birds, and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end. Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed, Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.

For I am yearning to visit the limits of the all-nurturing Earth, and Oceans, from whom the gods are sprung.

Don't mess with the dead, boy, they have eerie powers.