Homer Quotes
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Some things you will think of yourself,...some things God will put into your mind.
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I discovered a meal between breakfast and brunch.
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The melancholy joys of evils pass'd, For he who much has suffer'd, much will know.
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Even the bravest cannot fight beyond his power.
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Zeus does not bring all men's plans to fulfillment.
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Young people are thoughtless as a rule.
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Two urns on Jove's high throne have ever stood, the source of evil one, and one of good; from thence the cup of mortal man he fills, blessings to these, to those distributes ills; to most he mingles both.
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The stars never lie, but the astrologers lie about the stars.
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There is no greater fame for a man than that which he wins with his footwork or the skill of his hands.
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How delicate her feet who shuns the ground, Stepping a-tiptoe on the heads of men.
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Never to be cast away are the gifts of the gods, magnificent, which they give of their own will, no man could have them for wanting them.
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Is he not sacred, even to the gods, the wandering man who comes in weariness?
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...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.
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The man does better who runs from disaster than he who is caught by it.
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For a friend with an understanding heart is worth no less than a brother.
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I've gone back in time to when dinosaurs weren't just confined to zoos.
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Yea, and if some god shall wreck me in the wine-dark deep, even so I will endure… For already have I suffered full much, and much have I toiled in perils of waves and war. Let this be added to the tale of those.
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Too many kings can ruin an army.
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Insignificant mortals, who are as leaves are, and now flourish and grow warm with life, and feed on what the ground gives, but then again fade away and are dead.
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Old people don't need companionship. They need to be isolated and studied so it can be determined what nutrients they have that might be extracted for our personal use.
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Even his griefs are a joy long after to one that remembers all that he wrought and endured.
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Now from his breast into the eyes the ache of longing mounted, and he wept at last, his dear wife, clear and faithful, in his arms, longed for as the sunwarmed earth is longed for by a swimmer spent in rough water where his ship went down under Poseidon's blows, gale winds and tons of sea. Few men can keep alive through a big serf to crawl, clotted with brine, on kindly beaches in joy, in joy, knowing the abyss behind: and so she too rejoiced, her gaze upon her husband, her white arms round him pressed as though forever.
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No man or woman born, coward or brave, can shun his destiny.
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There is the heat of Love, the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad.