Ὅς κε θεοῖς ἐπιπείθηται μάλα τ' ἔκλυον αὐτοῦ. - Homer

I took the sheep and cut their throats over the pit, and let the dark blood flow. Then there gathered the spirits of the dead, brides and unwed youths, old men worn out by labour, and tender maidens with hearts still new to sorrow.

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.

Let him submit to me! Only the god of death is so relentless, Death submits to no one — so mortals hate him most of all the gods. Let him bow down to me! I am the greater king, I am the elder-born, I claim — the greater man.