Now From The Smooth Deep Ocean-stream The

It Is Not Right To Exult Over Slain Men.

The Tongue Of Man Is A Twisty Thing.

Ah How Shameless – The Way These Mortals Blame The Gods. From Us Alone They Say Come All Their Miseries Yes But They Themselves With Their Own Reckless Ways Compound Their Pains Beyond Their Proper Share.

It Is A Wise Child That Knows His Own Father. [lat., Nondum Enim Quisquam Suum Parentem Ipse Cognosvit.]

Over The Wine-dark Sea.