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Who knows but life be that which men call death, And death what men call life?
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For with slight efforts how should we obtain great results? It is foolish even to desire it.
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Blood streams in sacrifice; yet anguish finds no cure.
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The nobly born must nobly meet his fate.
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Young man, two are the forces most precious to mankind. The first is Demeter, the Goddess. She is the Earth -- or any name you wish to call her -- and she sustains humanity with solid food. Next came Dionysus, the son of the virgin, bringing the counterpart to bread: wine and the blessings of life's flowing juices. His blood, the blood of the grape, lightens the burden of our mortal misery. Though himself a God, it is his blood we pour out to offer thanks to the Gods. And through him, we are blessed.
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Account no man happy till he dies.
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There is desire in those who love to hear about their loved ones' pains.
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There seems to be some pleasure for women in sick talk of one another.
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But learn that to die is a debt we must all pay.
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There is as much confusion in the world of the gods as in ours.
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Our ancestors... purged their guilt by banishment, not death. And by so doing, they stopped that endless vicious cycle of murder and revenge.
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Time will discover everything to posterity; it is a babbler, and speaks even when no question is put.
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Sweet is the remembrance of troubles when you are in safety.
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When love is in excess, it brings a man no honor, no worthiness.
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God gives each his due at the time allotted.
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Love's all in all to women.
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Light be the earth upon you, lightly rest.
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To every man, even though he be a slave, the light of heaven is sweet.
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Never say that marriage has more of joy than pain.
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Men honor property above all else; it has the greatest power in human life.