In your grief, too, I weep, mother of little children, You who will murder your own, In vengeance for the loss of married love - Euripides

Odysseus. Say, Diomede, wilt make the men thy share,
Or catch the steeds and leave the fight to me?
Diomede. I take the killing, thou the stablery:
It needs keen wit and a neat hand.

Hate is a bottomless cup; I will pour and pour

What they say of us is that we have a peaceful time
Living at home, while they do the fighting in war.
How wrong they are! I would very much rather stand
Three times in the front of battle than bear one child.