There Is Nothing Worse For Mortals Than

We Are Quick To Flare Up, We Races Of Men On The Earth.

Thus Have The Gods Spun The Thread For Wretched Mortals: That They Live In Grief While They Themselves Are Without Cares; For Two Jars Stand On The Floor Of Zeus Of The Gifts Which He Gives, One Of Evils And Another Of Blessings.

Noblest Minds Are Easiest Bent.

Down From His Brow She Ran His Curls Like Thick Hyacinth Clusters Full Of Blooms

Whoever Obeys The Gods, To Him They Particularly Listen.