We Got A Little Rule Back Home:

Everything Flows And Nothing Stays.

Lay Ye Down The Golden Chain From Heaven, And Pull At Its Inferior Links Both Goddesses And Gods.

All Men Have Need Of The Gods.

So Peaceful Shalt Thou End Thy Blissful Days, And Steal Thyself From Life By Slow Decays.

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.