“For they imagined as they wished--that it was a wild shot,/ an unintended killing--fools, not to comprehend/ they were already in the grip of death./ But glaring under his brows Odysseus answered:'You yellow dogs, you thought I'd never make it/ home from the land of Troy. You took my house to plunder,/ twisted my maids to serve your beds. You dared/ bid for my wife while I was still alive./ Contempt was all you had for the gods who rule wide heaven,/ contempt for what men say of you hereafter./ Your last hour has come. You die in blood.”

“But now, as it is, sorrows, unending sorrows must surge within your heart as well—for your own son’s death. Never again will you embrace him stiding home. My spirit rebels—I’ve lost the will to live, to take my stand in the world of men—”

“...if fifty bands of men surrounded us/ and every sword sang for your blood,/ you could make off still with their cows and sheep.”

“I say no wealth is worth my life! Not all they claimwas stored in the depths of Troy, that city built on riches,in the old days of peace before the sons of Achaea came-not all the gold held fast in the Archer's rocky vaults,in Phoebus Apollo's house on Pytho's sheer cliffs!Cattle and fat sheep can all be had for the raiding,tripods all for the trading, and tawny-headed stallions.But a man's life breath cannot come back again-no raiders in force, no trading brings it back,once it slips through a man's clenched teeth.Mother tells me,the immortal goddess Thetis with her glistening feet,that two fates bear me on to the day of death.If I hold out here and I lay siege to Troy,my journey home is gone, but my glory never dies.If I voyage back to the fatherland I love,my pride, my glory dies...true, but the life that's left me will be long,the stroke of death will not come on me quickly.”

“Do not beg me by knees or by parents you dog! I only wish I were savagely wrathful enough to hack up your corpse and eat it raw”

“Come, weave us a scheme so I can pay them back!Stand beside me, Athena, fire me with daring, fierceas 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!”

“Vain is your boast in that you have scratched the sole of my foot... A worthless coward can inflict but a light wound. When I wound a man, though I but graze his skin, it is another matter, for my weapon will lay him low. His wife will tear her cheeks out for grief and his children will be fatherless: there he will rot, reddening the earth with his blood, and vultures, not women, will gather round him.”