What Greater Glory Attends A Man Than

Fear, O Achilles, The Wrath Of Heaven; Think On Your Own Father And Have Compassion Upon Me, Who Am The More Pitiable

I Would Rather Be A Serf In A Poor Man's House And Be Above Ground Than Reign Among The Dead.

Goddess Of Song, Teach Me The Story Of A Hero.

Still, We Will Let All This Be A Thing Of The Past, Though It Hurts Us, And Beat Down By Constraint The Anger That Rises Inside Us. Now I Am Making An End Of My Anger. It Does Not Become Me, Unrelentingly To Rage On

Have Patience, Heart.