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It's Disgraceful How These Humans Blame The Gods. They Say Their Tribulations Come From Us, When They Themselves, Through Their Own Foolishness, Bring Hardships Which Are Not Decreed By Fate.

-Homer

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It's Disgraceful How These

Homer

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It's Disgraceful How These Humans Blame The Gods. They Say Their Tribulations Come From Us, When They Themselves, Through Their Own Foolishness, Bring Hardships Which Are Not Decreed By Fate.

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I've Gone Back In Time To When Dinosaurs Weren't Just Confined To Zoos.

The Man Does Better Who Runs From Disaster Than He Who Is Caught By It.

The Man Who Acts The Least, Upbraids The Most.

See Now, How Men Lay Blame Upon Us Gods For What Is After All Nothing But Their Own Folly.

It's Man's To Fight, But Heaven's To Give Success.

Better To Live Or Die, Once And For All, Than Die By Inches.

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.

Nor Can One Word Be Chang'd But For A Worse.

Always To Be Best, And Distinguished Above The Rest.

Like Leaves On Trees The Race Of Man Is Found,- Now Green In Youth, Now Withering On The Ground; Another Race The Following Spring Supplies: They Fall Successive, And Successive Rise.

The Outcome Of The War Is In Our Hands; The Outcome Of Words Is In The Council.

The Tongue Of Man Is A Twisty Thing.

Life And Death Are Balanced As It Were On The Edge Of A Razor

Goddess Of Song, Teach Me The Story Of A Hero.

There Is The Heat Of Love, The Pulsing Rush Of Longing, The Lover’s Whisper, Irresistible—magic To Make The Sanest Man Go Mad.

It Is Tedious To Tell Again Tales Already Plainly Told.

I Should Rather Labor As Another's Serf, In The Home Of A Man Without Fortune, One Whose Livelihood Was Meager, Than Rule Over All The Departed Dead.

Even His Griefs Are A Joy Long After To One That Remembers All That He Wrought And Endured.

This Year I Invested In Pumpkins. They've Been Going Up The Whole Month Of October And I Got A Feeling They're Going To Peak Right Around January. Then Bang! That's When I'll Cash In.

And Bear Unmov'd The Wrongs Of Base Mankind, The Last, And Hardest, Conquest Of The Mind.

Generations Of Men Are Like The Leaves. In Winter, Winds Blow Them Down To Earth, But Then, When Spring Season Comes Again, The Budding Wood Grows More. And So With Men: One Generation Grows, Another Dies Away.

The Proof Of Battle Is Action, Proof Of Words, Debate. No Time For Speeches Now, It's Time To Fight.

Men Grow Tired Of Sleep, Love, Singing And Dancing Sooner Than Of War.

Down From His Brow She Ran His Curls Like Thick Hyacinth Clusters Full Of Blooms

Is He Not Sacred, Even To The Gods, The Wandering Man Who Comes In Weariness?

Rage From The Iliad

It [revenge] Is Sweeter Far Than Flowing Honey.

Revenge Is Sweet

There Is Nothing Nobler Or More Admirable Than When Two People Who See Eye To Eye Keep House As Man And Wife, Confounding Their Enemies And Delighting Their Friends.

Why, You Could Wake Up Dead Tomorrow

A Glorious Death Is His, Who For His Country Falls.

O Friends, Be Men; So Act That None May Feel Ashamed To Meet The Eyes Of Other Men. Think Each One Of This Children And His Wife, His Home, His Parents, Living Yet And Dead. For Them, The Absent Ones, I Supplicate, And Bid You Rally Here, And Scorn To Fly.

Reproach Is Infinite, And Knows No End.

Discourse, The Sweeter Banquet Of The Mind.

How Vain, Without The Merit, Is The Name.

I'm In A Place Where I Don't Know Where I Am!

To Labour Is The Lot Of Man Below; And When Jove Gave Us Life, He Gave Us Woe.

You Know, The One With All The Well Meaning Rules That Don't Work Out In Real Life, Uh, Christianity.

Heaven Hears And Pities Hapless Men Like Me, For Sacred Ev'n To Gods Is Misery.

These Nights Are Endless, And A Man Can Sleep Through Them, Or He Can Enjoy Listening To Stories, And You Have No Need To Go To Bed Before It Is Time. Too Much Sleep Is Only A Bore. And Of The Others, Any One Whose Heart And Spirit Urge Him Can Go Outside And Sleep, And Then, When The Dawn Shows, Breakfast First, Then Go Out To Tend The Swine Of Our Master. But We Two, Sitting Here In The Shelter, Eating And Drinking, Shall Entertain Each Other Remembering And Retelling Our Sad Sorrows. For Afterwards A Man Who Has Suffered Much And Wandered Much Has Pleasure Out Of His Sorrows.

Two Urns On Jove's High Throne Have Ever Stood, The Source Of Evil One, And One Of Good; From Thence The Cup Of Mortal Man He Fills, Blessings To These, To Those Distributes Ills; To Most He Mingles Both.

I'll Teach You To Laugh At Something That's Funny!

I Live An Idle Burden To The Ground.

Rock Stars, Is There Anything They Don't Know?

Few Sons Are Equal To Their Fathers; Most Fall Short, All Too Few Surpass Them.

The Other Day, I Was So Desperate For A Beer, I Snuck Into The Football Stadium And Ate The Dirt Under The Bleachers.

There Is Satiety In All Things, In Sleep, And Love-making, In The Loveliness Of Singing And The Innocent Dance.

We Mortals Hear Only The News, And Know Nothing At All.

Come, Weave Us A Scheme So I Can Pay Them Back! Stand Beside Me, Athena, Fire Me With Daring, Fierce As The Day We Ripped Troy's Glittering Crown Of Towers Down. Stand By Me - Furious Now As Then, My Bright-eyed One - And I Would Fight Three Hundred Men, Great Goddess, With You To Brace Me, Comrade-in-arms In Battle!

So, The Gods Don't Hand Out All Their Gifts At Once, Not Build And Brains And Flowing Speech To All. One Man May Fail To Impress Us With His Looks But A God Can Crown His Words With Beauty, Charm, And Men Look On With Delight When He Speaks Out. Never Faltering, Filled With Winning Self-control, He Shines Forth At Assembly Grounds And People Gaze At Him Like A God When He Walks Through The Streets. Another Man May Look Like A Deathless One On High But There's Not A Bit Of Grace To Crown His Words. Just Like You, My Fine, Handsome Friend.

The Rule Of The Many Is Not Well. One Must Be Chief In War And One The King.

The Rest Were Vulgar Deaths Unknown To Fame.

For Afterwards A Man Finds Pleasure In His Pains, When He Has Suffered Long And Wandered Long. So I Will Tell You What You Ask And Seek To Know.

I Have No Interest At All In Food And Drink, But Only In Slaughter And Blood And The Agonized Groans Of Mangled Men

Forget The Brother And Resume The Man.

Behold, On Wrong Swift Vengeance Waits; And Art Subdues The Strong.

Wine Give Strenght To Weary Men. And And Wine Can Of Their Wits The Wise Beguile. Make The Sage Frolic, And The Serious Smile. And Let Those Who Drink Not, But Austerely Dine, Dry Up In Law; The Muses Smell Of Wine. And No Poem Was Ever Written By A Drinker Of Water. And Bacchus Opens The Gate Of The Heart. And Might To Inspire New Hopes And Powerful To Drown The Bitterness Of Cares.

The Life, Which Others Pay, Let Us Bestow, And Give To Fame What We To Nature Owe.

Ruin, Eldest Daughter Of Zeus, She Blinds Us All, That Fatal Madness—she With Those Delicate Feet Of Hers, Never Touching The Earth, Gliding Over The Heads Of Men To Trap Us All. She Entangles One Man, Now Another.

For When Two Join In The Same Adventure, One Perceives Before The Other How They Ought To Act; While One Alone, However Prompt, Resolves More Tardily And With A Weaker Will.

And Overpowered By Memory Both Men Gave Way To Grief. Priam Wept Freely For Man - Killing Hector, Throbbing, Crouching Before Achilles' Feet As Achilles Wept Himself, Now For His Father, Now For Patroclus Once Again And Their Sobbing Rose And Fell Throughout The House.

Who Hearkens To The Gods, The Gods Give Ear.

She Spoke And Loosened From Her Bosom The Embroidered Girdle Of Many Colors Into Which All Her Allurements Were Fashioned. In It Was Love And Int Desire Which Steals The Mind Even Of The Wise.

Sinks My Sad Soul With Sorrow To The Grave.

Wise To Resolve, And Patient To Perform.

Good Things Don't End In -eum; They End In -mania Or -teria.

Base Wealth Preferring To Eternal Praise.

Ah, Good Ol’ Trustworthy Beer. My Love For You Will Never Die.

My Love For You

The Generation Of Mankind Is Like The Generation Of Leaves. The Wind Scatters The Leaves On The Ground, But The Living Tree Burgeons With Leaves Again In The Spring.

Sweet Sleep Fell Upon His Eyelids, Unwakeful, Most Pleasant, The Nearest Like Death.

I'm A People Person...who Drinks.

Death Submits To No One.

A Generous Heart Repairs A Slanderous Tongue.

Toil Is The Lot Of All, And Bitter Woe The Fate Of Many.

Whenever A Man Is Tired, Wine Is A Great Restorer Of Strength.

Nobody Gets Into Heaven Without A Glowstick.

Look, I'm Not Asking You To Like Me, I'm Not Asking You To Put Yourself In A Position Where I Can Touch Your Goodies, I'm Just Asking You To Be Fair.

The God Of War Will See Fair Play-he's Often Slain That Wants To Slay!

And His Good Wife Will Tear Her Cheeks In Grief, His Sons Are Orphans And He, Soaking The Soil Red With His Own Blood, He Rots Away Himself-more Birds Than Women Flocking Round His Body!

Goddess-nurse Of The Young, Give Ear To My Prayer, And Grant That This Woman May Reject The Love-embraces Of Youth And Dote On Grey-haired Old Men Whose Powers Are Dulled, But Whose Hearts Still Desire.

Never To Be Cast Away Are The Gifts Of The Gods, Magnificent, Which They Give Of Their Own Will, No Man Could Have Them For Wanting Them.

Zeus Most Glorious And Most Great, Thundercloud, Throned In The Heavens! Let Not The Sun Go Down And The Darkness Come, Until I Cast Down Headlong The Citadel Of Priam In Flames, And Burn His Gates With Blazing Fire, And Tear To Rags The Shirt Upon Hectors Breast! May Many Of His Men Fall About Him Prone In The Dust And Bite The Earth!

One Rogue Leads Another.

Without Tv, It's Hard To Know When One Day Ends And Another Begins.

The Difficulty Is Not So Great To Die For A Friend, As To Find A Friend Worth Dying For.

Shoulder-to-shoulder, Swing To The Work, We Must - Just Two As We Are - If We Hope To Make Some Headway. The Worst Cowards, Banded Together, Have Their Power, But You And I Have Got The Skill To Fight Their Best.

Wine Lead To Folly, Making Even The Wise To Laugh Immoderately, To Dance, And To Utter What Had Better Have Been Kept Silent.

Sensitive Love Letters Are My Specialty. 'dear Baby, Welcome To Dumpsville. Population: You.'

What Is This Word That Broke Through The Fence Of Your Teeth, Atreides?

That Is The Gods' Work, Spinning Threads Of Death Through The Lives Of Mortal Men, An All To Make A Song For Those To Come.

Beauty- It Was A Glorious Gift Of Nature.

Servants, When Their Lords No Longer Sway, Their Minds No More To Righteous Courses Bend.

But Listen To Me First And Swear An Oath To Use All Your Eloquence And Strength To Look After Me And Protect Me.

Rage From The Iliad

…but There They Lay, Sprawled Across The Field, Craved Far More By The Vultures Than By Wives.

Rage From The Iliad

I Detest The Man Who Hides On Thing In The Depths Of His Heart And Speaks Forth Another.

I Would Rather Be Tied To The Soil As A Serf... Than Be King Of All These Dead And Destroyed.

The Only Monster Here Is The Gambling Monster That Has Enslaved Your Mother, And I Call Him Gamblor!

Why Cover The Same Ground Again? ... It Goes Against My Grain To Repeat A Tale Told Once, And Told So Clearly.

The Grecian Ladies Counted Their Age From Their Marriage, Not Their Birth.

Who Love Too Much, Hate In The Like Extreme.

Singing Is The Lowest Form Of Communication.

Jove Lifts The Golden Balances That Show The Fates Of Mortal Men, And Things Below.

A Little Child Born Yesterday A Thing On Mother's Milk And Kisses Fed.

The Natural Thing, My Lord, Men And Women Joined.

[i]t Is The Wine That Leads Me On, The Wild Wine That Sets The Wisest Man To Sing At The Top Of His Lungs, Laugh Like A Fool – It Drives The Man To Dancing... It Even Tempts Him To Blurt Out Stories Better Never Told.

Wine Gives Strength To Weary Men.

From Now On Walking Is My Beer And Feeling Good Is My Hangover.

Noble And Manly Music Invigorates The Spirit, Strengthens The Wavering Man, And Incites Him To Great And Worthy Deeds.

Out Of Sight,out Of Mind

Of Sight Out Of Mind

Let Me Not Then Die Ingloriously And Without A Struggle, But Let Me First Do Some Great Thing That Shall Be Told Among Men Hereafter.

And By The Sacred Parchment, I Swear That If I Reveal The Secrets Of The Stonecutters, May My Stomach Become Bloated And My Head Be Plucked Of All But Three Hairs

The Charity That Is A Trifle To Us Can Be Precious To Others.

Ah, Beer, My One Weakness. My Achille's Heel, If You Will.

Uncontrollable Laughter Arose Among The Blessed Gods.

A Councilor Ought Not To Sleep The Whole Night Through, A Man To Whom The Populace Is Entrusted, And Who Has Many Responsibilities.

Why So Much Grief For Me? No Man Will Hurl Me Down To Death, Against My Fate. And Fate? No One Alive Has Ever Escaped It, Neither Brave Man Nor Coward, I Tell You - It’s Born With Us The Day That We Are Born.

The Tongue Of Man Is A Twisty Thing, There Are Plenty Of Words There Of Every Kind.

Look At Me! I'm A Puffy Pink Cloud!

Now From The Smooth Deep Ocean-stream The Sun Began To Climb The Heavens, And With New Rays Smote The Surrounding Fields.

Many Shining Actions Owe Their Success To Chance, Though The General Or Statesman Receive The Applause.

Whatever Day Makes Man A Slave, Takes Half His Worth Away.

Steel Itself Oft Lures A Man To Fight.

See How God Ever Like With Like Doth Pair, And Still The Worthless Doth The Worthless Lead!

Whoever Obeys The Gods, To Him They Particularly Listen.

I Want To Be Alone With My Thought.

Wants To Be Alone

There Is No Fouler Fiend Than A Woman When Her Mind Is Bent To Evil.

Thou Wilt Lament Hereafter, When The Evil Shall Be Done And Shall Admit No Cure.

It Is Not Strength, But Art, Obtains The Prize, And To Be Swift Is Less Than To Be Wise.

What Mighty Woes To Thy Imperial Race From Woman Rose.

I Won't Lie To You, Fatherhood Isn't Easy Like Motherhood.

Wine Sets Even A Thoughtful Man To Singing, Or Sets Him Into Softly Laughing, Sets Him To Dancing. Sometimes It Tosses Out A Word That Was Better Unspoken.

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

You Ought Not To Practice Childish Ways, Since You Are No Longer That Age.

Now From His Breast Into The Eyes The Ache Of Longing Mounted, And He Wept At Last, His Dear Wife, Clear And Faithful, In His Arms, Longed For As The Sunwarmed Earth Is Longed For By A Swimmer Spent In Rough Water Where His Ship Went Down Under Poseidon's Blows, Gale Winds And Tons Of Sea. Few Men Can Keep Alive Through A Big Serf To Crawl, Clotted With Brine, On Kindly Beaches In Joy, In Joy, Knowing The Abyss Behind: And So She Too Rejoiced, Her Gaze Upon Her Husband, Her White Arms Round Him Pressed As Though Forever.

Better To Flee From Death Than Feel Its Grip.

Strife, Only A Slight Thing When She First Rears Her Head But Her Head Soon Hits The Sky As She Strides Across The Earth.

Rage From The Iliad

If You're Gonna Get Mad At Me Every Time I Do Something Stupid, Then I Guess I'll Just Have To Stop Doing Stupid Things.

First You Don't Want Me To Get The Pony, Then You Want Me To Take It Back. Make Up Your Mind!

A Guest Never Forgets The Host Who Has Treated Him Kindly.

The Lot Of Man-to Suffer And Die.

They Did Not Know Her-gods Are Hard For Mortals To Recognize.

You, Why Are You So Afraid Of War And Slaughter? Even If All The Rest Of Us Drop And Die Around You, Grappling For The Ships, You’d Run No Risk Of Death: You Lack The Heart To Last It Out In Combat—coward!

We Cannot All Hope To Combine The Pleasing Qualities Of Good Looks, Brains, And Eloquence.

The God Of War Is Impartial: He Hands Out Death To The Man Who Hands Out Death.

Each Man Delights In The Work That Suits Him Best.

Guns Aren't Toys! They're For Family Protection, Hunting Dangerous Or Delicious Animals, And Keeping The King Of England Out Of Your Face!

The Journey Is Its Own Reward.

And Would'st Thou Evil For His Good Repay?

All Deaths Are Hateful To Miserable Mortals, But The Most Pitiable Death Of All Is To Starve.

Nothing In The World Is So Incontinent As A Man's Accursed Appetite.

You Never Know When An Old Calendar Might Come In Handy! Sure, It's Not 1985 Right Now, But Who Knows What Tomorrow Will Bring?

We Battle On In Words, As Always, Mere Words, And What's The Cure? We Cannot Find A Thing.

Men In Their Generations Are Like The Leaves Of The Trees. The Wind Blows And One Year's Leaves Are Scattered On The Ground; But The Trees Burst Into Bud And Put On Fresh Ones When The Spring Comes Round.

I, For One, Know Of No Sweeter Sight For A Man's Eyes Than His Own Country.

Few Sons Attain The Praise Of Their Great Sires And Most Their Sires Disgrace.

If It Doesn't Have Siamese Twins In A Jar, It Is Not A Fair.

Lay Ye Down The Golden Chain From Heaven, And Pull At Its Inferior Links Both Goddesses And Gods.

There Is A Fullness Of All Things, Even Of Sleep And Love.

Life Is Not To Be Bought With Heaps Of Gold; Not All Apollo's Pythian Treasures Hold, Or Troy Once Held, In Peace And Pride Of Sway, Can Bribe The Poor Possession Of The Day.

Achilles Absent Was Achilles Still!

Absent Mindedness

The Gods Give To Mortals Not Everything At The Same Time.

Accept These Grateful Tears...for Thee They Flow, For Thee... That Ever Felt Another's Woe.

After The Event, Even A Fool Is Wise.

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.

I'm Satisfied. It's Straight,...but It's Just So Hot, And I'm Just So Fraustrated.

Pine Needle Sorbet? Pine Needle Sorbet?! My Kids Do Not Eat Sorbet. They Eat Sherbet, And They Pronounce It Sherbert, And They Wish It Was Ice Cream!

Blame The Guy Who Doesn't Speak Engish.

The Sun Rose On The Flawless Brimming Sea Into A Sky All Brazen-all One Brightening For Gods Immortal And For Mortal Men On Plowlands Kind With Grain.

I Hate To Tell Again A Tale Once Fully Told.

There Is A Time For Many Words, And There Is Also A Time For Sleep.

Nay If Even In The House Of Hades The Dead Forget Their Dead, Yet Will I Even There Be Mindful Of My Dear Comrade.

Rage From The Iliad

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.

Most Grievous Of All Deaths It Is To Die Of Hunger.

Dreams Are Sent By God.

Sing, O Muse, Of The Rage Of Achilles, Son Of Peleus, That Brought Countless Ills Upon The Achaeans.

Rage From The Iliad

Shame Is No Comrade For The Poor, I Weet.

Do Not Mourn The Dead With The Belly.

As Leaves On The Trees, Such Is The Life Of Man.

Sleep And Death, Who Are Twin Brothers.

Light Is The Task Where Many Share The Toil.

All Strangers And Beggars Are From Zeus, And A Gift, Though Small, Is Precious.

It Is Wrong To Be Sorry Without Ceasing.

On These Sands And In The Clefts Of The Rocks, In The Depths Of The Sea, In The Creaking Of The Pines, You'll Spy Secret Footprints And Catch Far-off Voices From The Homecoming Celebration. This Land Still Longs For Odysseus.

A Sympathetic Friend Can Be Quite As Dear As A Brother.

Even When Someone Battles Hard, There Is An Equal Portion For One Who Lingers Behind, And In The Same Honor Are Held Both The Coward And The Brave Man; The Idle Man And He Who Has Done Much Meet Death Alike.

If You Serve Too Many Masters, You'll Soon Suffer.

He Lives Not Long Who Battles With The Immortals, Nor Do His Children Prattle About His Knees When He Has Come Back From Battle And The Dread Fray.

The Hearts Of Great Men Can Be Changed.

Sleep, Delicious And Profound, The Very Counterfeit Of Death

For Fate Has Wove The Thread Of Life With Pain, And Twins Ev'n From The Birth Are Misery And Man!

Beware The Toils Of War ... The Mesh Of The Huge Dragnet Sweeping Up The World.

It Is Entirely Seemly For A Young Man Killed In Battle To Lie Mangled By The Bronze Spear. In His Death All Things Appear Fair.

He Knew How To Say Many False Things That Were Like True Sayings.

How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The Ground, Stepping A-tiptoe On The Heads Of Men.

You Know Those Balls That They Put On Car Antennas So You Can Find Them In The Parking Lot? Those Should Be On Every Car!

Ah How Shameless – The Way These Mortals Blame The Gods. From Us Alone They Say Come All Their Miseries Yes But They Themselves With Their Own Reckless Ways Compound Their Pains Beyond Their Proper Share.

To Speak His Thoughts Is Every Freeman's Right, In Peace And War, In Council And In Fight.

A Generation Of Men Is Like A Generation Of Leaves; The Wind Scatters Some Leaves Upon The Ground, While Others The Burgeoning Wood Brings Forth - And The Season Of Spring Comes On. So Of Men One Generation Springs Forth And Another Ceases.

Too Many Kings Can Ruin An Army

No One Can Hurry Me Down To Hades Before My Time, But If A Man's Hour Is Come, Be He Brave Or Be He Coward, There Is No Escape For Him When He Has Once Been Born.

Not Two Strong Men The Enormous Weight Could Raise,- Such Men As Live In These Degenerate Days.

Oall The Creatures That Creep And Breathe On Earth, There Is None More Wretched Than Man.

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