Few Sons Are Like Their Fathers -

I Want To Be Alone With My Thought.

Thus Have The Gods Spun The Thread For Wretched Mortals: That They Live In Grief While They Themselves Are Without Cares; For Two Jars Stand On The Floor Of Zeus Of The Gifts Which He Gives, One Of Evils And Another Of Blessings.

Men Grow Tired Of Sleep, Love, Singing And Dancing Sooner Than Of War.

Nobody Gets Into Heaven Without A Glowstick.

Victory Passes Back And Forth Between Men.