Dreams Are Sent By God.

Achilles Absent Was Achilles Still!

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.

Just Once I'd Like Someone To Call Me 'sir' Without Adding 'you're Making A Scene.'

Here, Therefore, Huge And Mighty Warrior Though You Be, Here Shall You Die.

We Mortals Hear Only The News, And Know Nothing At All.