Apollo, Apollo — but he is my lord. I will keep silence. He is wise forever, though his oracle spoke brutal words. We are bound to acquiesce. And you… - Euripides

The fiercest anger of all, the most incurable,
Is that which rages in the place of dearest love.

OR. Why mournest thou thus, and teasest us [65] concerning our future ills, whoever thou art, O lady? In naught do I deem him wise, who, when about to die, with bewailings seeks to overcome the fear of death, nor him who deplores death now near at hand, [66] when he has no hope of safety, in that he joins two ills instead of one, both incurs the charge of folly, and dies none the less. But one must needs let fortune take its course. But mourn us not, for we know and are acquainted with the sacrificial rites of this place.

Would ye be wise, ye Cities, fly from war!