Men Grow Tired Of Sleep,

For They Imagined As They Wished--that It Was A Wild Shot,/ An Unintended Killing--fools, Not To Comprehend/ They Were Already In The Grip Of Death./ But Glaring Under His Brows Odysseus Answered: 'you Yellow Dogs, You Thought I'd Never Make It/ Home From The Land Of Troy. You Took My House To Plunder,/ Twisted My Maids To Serve Your Beds. You Dared/ Bid For My Wife While I Was Still Alive./ Contempt Was All You Had For The Gods Who Rule Wide Heaven,/ Contempt For What Men Say Of You Hereafter./ Your Last Hour Has Come. You Die In Blood.

A Sound Mind In A Manly Body.

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.

Fate Is The Same For The Man Who Holds Back, The Same If He Fights Hard. We Are All Held In A Single Honor, The Brave With The Weaklings. A Man Dies Still If He Has Done Nothing, As The One Who Has Done Much.

It Is Always The Latest Song That An Audience Applauds The Most.