I Long For Home, Long For The

It Is Not Right To Exult Over Slain Men.

Servants, When Their Lords No Longer Sway, Their Minds No More To Righteous Courses Bend.

For Rarely Are Sons Similar To Their Fathers: Most Are Worse, And A Few Are Better Than Their Fathers.

I Would Rather Be Tied To The Soil As A Serf... Than Be King Of All These Dead And Destroyed.

Praise Me Not Too Much, Nor Blame Me, For Thou Speakest To The Greeks Who Know Me.