“But the lust for power never dies- men cannot have enough.No one will lift a hand to send it from his door, to give it warning, 'Power, never come again!”

“Oh, the torment bred in the race, the grinding scream of deathand the stroke that hits the vein,the hemorrhage none can staunch, the grief,the curse no man can bear.But there is a cure in the house, and not outside it, no,not from others but from them,their bloody strife. We sing to you,dark gods beneath the earth.Now hear, you blissful powers underground --answer the call, send help.Bless the children, give them triumph now.”

“Wisdom comes through suffering.Trouble, with its memories of pain,Drips in our hearts as we try to sleep,So men against their willLearn to practice moderation.Favours come to us from gods.”

“They sent forth men to battle, But no such men return; And home, to claim their welcome, Come ashes in an urn”

“Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forgetfalls drop by drop upon the heartuntil, in our own despair, against our will,comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”

“For it would be better to die once and for all than to suffer pain for all one's life.”

“In our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”