“And overpowered by memoryBoth men gave way to grief. Priam wept freelyFor man - killing Hector, throbbing, crouchingBefore Achilles' feet as Achilles wept himself,Now for his father, now for Patroclus once againAnd their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house.”

“After so many years even the fire of passion dies, and with it what was believed the light of the truth. Who of us is able to say now whether Hector or Achilles was right, Agamemnon or Priam, when they fought over the beauty of a woman who is now dust and ashes?”

“With him died a storyThat will not be retold:How, forsaking glory,Achilles grows oldWhile Hector dusts his trophiesBehind high walls- For in his unsung strophesTroy never falls”

“That day, so many wept. Young and old, friends and strangers, black and white, men and women wept. The angels wept. Jesus wept. Coach Gabe Lewis, though, with his eyes on the lilies, shed not a single tear.”

“He wept because he was afraid now that he could not save Gabriel. He no longer cared about himself”

“Caine usually woke from the recurring dream mid-air, having yet to be dashed upon the rocks, whimpering and panting like a child crying for his mother. Now he lifted his eyes to a dark, empty room in Jizan and the unusual, lingering scent of roses, and wept in his hands for his Father.”