Maxioms by Homer ("smyrns Of Chios")
Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in
the bosom of a man like smoke.
Anger, which, far sweeter than trickling drops of honey, rises in
the bosom of a man like smoke.
Ajax the great . . .
Himself a host.
Ajax the great . . .
Himself a host.
A happier lot were mine,
If I must lose thee, to go down to earth,
For I read more
A happier lot were mine,
If I must lose thee, to go down to earth,
For I shall have no hope when thou art gone,--
Nothing but sorrow. Father have I none,
And no dear mother.
Gloomy as night he stands.
Gloomy as night he stands.
No living man can send me to the shades
Before my time; no man of woman born,
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No living man can send me to the shades
Before my time; no man of woman born,
Coward or brave, can shun his destiny.
