A chaplet of leaves crowns the victor.
If I am unable to make the gods above relent, I shall move hell.
These passions of soul, these conflicts so fierce, will cease, and be repressed by the casting of a little dust.
All these souls, after they have passed away a thousand years, are summoned by the divine ones in great array, to the lethean river. . . . In this way they become forgetful of the former earthlife, and re-visit the vaulted realms of the world, willing to return again into living bodies.
That which an enraged woman can accomplish.
Veiling truth in mystery.