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Earth sounds my wisdom, and high heaven my fame.
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A man dies still if he has done nothing, as one who has done much.
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I'll teach you to laugh at something that's funny!
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Life is not to be bought with heaps of gold; Not all Apollo's Pythian treasures hold, Or Troy once held, in peace and pride of sway, Can bribe the poor possession of the day.
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I am a part of all that I have met. Yet, experience is an arch wherethro gleams that untravl'd world whose margin fades forever and forever when I move.
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Reproach is infinite, and knows no end So voluble a weapon is the tongue; Wounded, we wound; and neither side can fail For every man has equal strength to rail.
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I would rather be tied to the soil as a serf... than be king of all these dead and destroyed.
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Fate is the same for the man who holds back, the same if he fights hard. We are all held in a single honor, the brave with the weaklings. A man dies still if he has done nothing, as the one who has done much.
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All things are in the hand of heaven, and Folly, eldest of Jove's daughters, shuts men's eyes to their destruction. She walks delicately, not on the solid earth, but hovers over the heads of men to make them stumble or to ensnare them.
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Don't mess with the dead, boy, they have eerie powers.
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No trust is to be placed in women.
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The generation of mankind is like the generation of leaves. The wind scatters the leaves on the ground, but the living tree burgeons with leaves again in the spring.
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Sleep, delicious and profound, the very counterfeit of death.
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There is no fouler fiend than a woman when her mind is bent to evil.
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And empty words are evil.
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Ill fares the State where many masters rule; let one be lord, one king supreme.
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It is better to watch people do stuff than to do stuff.
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Be still my heart; thou hast known worse than this.
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Few sons are like their fathers - many are worse, few better.
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I would rather be a serf in a poor man's house and be above ground than reign among the dead.
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We battle on in words, as always, mere words, and what's the cure? We cannot find a thing.
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Nobody gets into heaven without a glowstick.
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Thus have the gods spun the thread for wretched mortals: that they live in grief while they themselves are without cares; for two jars stand on the floor of Zeus of the gifts which he gives, one of evils and another of blessings.
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Shame greatly hurts or greatly helps mankind.