And Would'st Thou Evil For His Good

Let Him Submit To Me! Only The God Of Death Is So Relentless, Death Submits To No One—so Mortals Hate Him Most Of All The Gods. Let Him Bow Down To Me! I Am The Greater King, I Am The Elder-born, I Claim—the Greater Man.

It Is Not Right To Exult Over Slain Men.

She Sent Him A Warm And Gentle Wind, And Lord Odysseus Was Happy As He Set His Sails To Catch The Breeze. He Sat Beside The Steering Oar And Used His Skill To Steer The Raft.

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

We All Scribble Poetry.