Suffering Is But Another Name For The

Like Leaves On Trees The Race Of Man Is Found,- Now Green In Youth, Now Withering On The Ground; Another Race The Following Spring Supplies: They Fall Successive, And Successive Rise.

Over The Wine-dark Sea.

Come, Friend, You Too Must Die. Why Moan About It So? Even Patroclus Died, A Far, Far Better Man Than You. And Look, You See How Handsome And Powerful I Am? The Son Of A Great Man, The Mother Who Gave Me Life-- A Deathless Goddess. But Even For Me, I Tell You, Death And The Strong Force Of Fate Are Waiting. There Will Come A Dawn Or Sunset Or High Noon When A Man Will Take My Life In Battle Too-- Flinging A Spear Perhaps Or Whipping A Deadly Arrow Off His Bow.

Immortals Are Never Alien To One Another.

Oh, Everything Looks Bad If You Remember It.