Youth Is Quick In Feeling

There Will Be Killing Till The Score Is Paid.

Anger, Which, Far Sweeter Than Trickling Drops Of Honey, Rises In The Bosom Of A Man Like Smoke.

You Will Certainly Not Be Able To Take The Lead In All Things Yourself, For To One Man A God Has Given Deeds Of War, And To Another The Dance, To Another Lyre And Song, And In Another Wide-sounding Zeus Puts A Good Mind.

My Hour At Last Has Come; Yet Not Ingloriously Or Passively I Die, But First Will Do Some Valiant Deed, Of Which Mankind Shall Hear In After Time.

It Is Wrong To Sorrow Without Ceasing.