All Men Have Need Of The Gods.

Yea, And If Some God Shall Wreck Me In The Wine-dark Deep, Even So I Will Endure… For Already Have I Suffered Full Much, And Much Have I Toiled In Perils Of Waves And War. Let This Be Added To The Tale Of Those.

...if Fifty Bands Of Men Surrounded Us/ And Every Sword Sang For Your Blood,/ You Could Make Off Still With Their Cows And Sheep.

Just Are The Ways Of Heaven; From Heaven Proceed The Woes Of Man: Heaven Doom'd The Greeks To Bleed.

'yea And I Beheld Sisyphus In Strong Torment, Grasping A Monstrous Stone With Both His Hands. He Was Pressing Thereat With Hands And Feet, And Trying To Roll The Stone Upward Toward The Brow Of The Hill. But Oft As He Was About To Hurl It Over The Top, The Weight Would Drive Him Back, So Once Again To The Plain Rolled The Stone, The Shameless Thing. And He Once More Kept Heaving And Straining, And The Sweat The While Was Pouring Down His Limbs, And The Dust Rose Upwards From His Head.

Young Men's Minds Are Always Changeable, But When An Old Man Is Concerned In A Matter, He Looks Both Before And After.