Homer Quotes

Καὶ μὴν Σίσυφον εἰσεῖδον κρατέρ' ἄλγε' ἔχοντα,
λᾶαν βαστάζοντα πελώριον ἀμφοτέρῃσιν.
τοι ὁ μὲν σκηριπτόμενος χερσίν τε ποσίν τε
λᾶαν ἄνω ὤθεσκε ποτὶ λόφον· ἀλλ' ὅτε μέλλοι
ἄκρον ὑπερβαλέειν, τότ' ἀποστρέψασκε Κραταιΐς·
αὖτις ἔπειτα πέδονδε κυλίνδετο λᾶας ἀναιδής.

Ne rüzgar eserdi orada ne yağmur yağardı, kar bile düşmezdi,
yaz günlerinin bulutsuz havası
ve bembeyaz parlaklığı hüküm sürerdi;
mutlu tanrılar işte orada tadını çıkarırdı günlerinin.

Ἀνδρὸς δὲ ψυχὴ πάλιν ἐλθεῖν οὔτε λεϊστὴ
οὔθ' ἑλετή, ἐπεὶ ἄρ κεν ἀμείψεται ἕρκος ὀδόντων.

Come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.

. . . But if he is truly

Odysseus, home at last, make no mistake:

we two will know each other, even better — we two have secret signs,

known to us both but hidden from the world.

...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.

If a man is cruel by nature, cruel in action,
the mortal world will call down curses on his head
while he is alive, and all will mock his memory after death.
But then if a man is kind by nature, kind in action,
his guests will carry his fame across the earth
and people all will praise him from the heart.

Ψεῦδος δ' οὐκ ἐρέει· μάλα γὰρ πεπνυμένος ἐστίν.

A last request — grant it, please.
Never bury my bones apart from yours, Achilles,
let them lie together . . .
just as we grew up together in your house

For lo? my words no fancied woes relate; I speak from science and the voice of fate.

Always be the best, my boy, the bravest, and hold your head up high above all the others. Never disgrace the generation of your fathers. They were the bravest champions...

But when he spoke, that great voice of his poured out of his chest in words like the snowflakes of winter, and then no other mortal could in debate contend with Odysseus. Nor did we care any longer how he looked.

Μή μοι δῶρ' ἐρατὰ πρόφερε χρυσέης Ἀφροδίτης·
οὔ τοι ἀπόβλητ' ἐστὶ θεῶν ἐρικυδέα δῶρα
ὅσσά κεν αὐτοὶ δῶσιν, ἑκὼν δ' οὐκ ἄν τις ἕλοιτο.

The creation of genius always seem like miracles, because they are, for the most part, crated far out of the reach of observation.

There she encountered Sleep, the brother of Death.