Some Things You Will Think Of Yourself,...some

Let Him Submit To Me! Only The God Of Death Is So Relentless, Death Submits To No One—so Mortals Hate Him Most Of All The Gods. Let Him Bow Down To Me! I Am The Greater King, I Am The Elder-born, I Claim—the Greater Man.

Rather I'd Choose Laboriously To Bear A Weight Of Woes, And Breathe The Vital Air, A Slave To Some Poor Hind That Toils For Bread, Than Reign The Sceptred Monarch Of The Dead.

She Sent Him A Warm And Gentle Wind, And Lord Odysseus Was Happy As He Set His Sails To Catch The Breeze. He Sat Beside The Steering Oar And Used His Skill To Steer The Raft.

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

The Persuasion Of A Friend Is A Strong Thing.