Aeschylus Quotes

Bronze is the mirror of the form; wine, of the heart.

A prosperous fool is a grievous burden.

The man who does ill, ill must suffer too.

O Death the Healer, scorn thou not, I pray,
To come to me: of cureless ills thou art
The one physician. Pain lays not its touch
Upon a corpse.

For where might and justice are yoke-fellows—
What pair is stronger than this?

ὅπου γὰρ ἰσχὺς συζυγοῦσι καὶ δίκη
ποία ξυνωρὶς τῆσδε καρτερωτέρα

Of all the gods, Death only craves not gifts:
Nor sacrifice, nor yet drink-offering poured
Avails; no altars hath he, nor is soothed
By hymns of praise. From him alone of all
The powers of heaven Persuasion holds aloof.

So in the Libyan fable it is told
That once an eagle, stricken with a dart,
Said, when he saw the fashion of the shaft,
"With our own feathers, not by others' hands,
Are we now smitten."

Nothing that strikes a note of brutal conquest. Only peace -blessings, rising up from the earth and the heaving sea, and down the vaulting sky let the wind-gods breathe a wash of sunlight streaming through the land, and the yield of soil and grazing cattle flood our city's life with power and never flag with time. Make the seed of men live on, the more they worship you the more they thrive. I love them as a gardener loves his plants, these upright men, this breed fought free of grief. All that is yours to give. And I, in the trials of war where fighters burn for fame, will never endure the overthrow of Athens all will praise her, victor city, pride of man. The furies assemble, dancing around Athena, who becomes their leader.

Nothing that strikes a note of brutal conquest. Only peace blessings, rising up from the earth and the heaving sea, and down the vaulting sky let the wind-gods breathe a wash of sunlight streaming through the land, and the yield of soil and grazing cattle flood our city's life with power and never flag with time. Make the seed of men live on, the more they worship you the more they thrive. I love them as a gardener loves his plants, these upright men, this breed fought free of grief. All that is yours to give. And I, in the trials of war where fighters burn for fame, will never endure the overthrow of Athens all will praise her, victor city, pride of man. The furies assemble, dancing around Athena, who becomes their leader.

I ask the gods some respite from the weariness
of this watch time measured by years I lie awake
elbowed upon the Atreidae's roof dogwise to mark
the grand professionals of all the stars of night
burdened with winter and again with heat for men,
dynasties in their shining blazoned on the air,
these stairs, upon their wane and when the rest arise

Not sights! These terrors are real! The mother's curse, the hellhounds of hate, they are here!