Fair or foul the lot apportioned life on earth, we bear alike.
Sappho survives, because we sing her songs; And Eschylus, because we read his plays!
I give the fight up: let there be an end, a privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God.
What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?
A man in armour is his armour's slave.
I do what many dream of, all their lives