It Is A Wise Child That Knows

Miserable Mortals Who Like Leaves At One Moment Flame With Life Eating The Produce Of The Land And At Another Moment Weakly Perish.

The Gods Give To Mortals Not Everything At The Same Time.

Do Not Beg Me By Knees Or By Parents You Dog! I Only Wish I Were Savagely Wrathful Enough To Hack Up Your Corpse And Eat It Raw

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

By Jove The Stranger And The Poor Are Sent, And What To Those We Give, To Jove Is Lent.