Ἐν δ' ἔπεσ' Ὠκεανῷ λαμπρὸν φάος ἠελίοιο ἕλκον νύκτα μέλαιναν ἐπὶ ζείδωρον ἄρουραν. - Homer

Come, Friend, you too must die. Why moan about it so?
Even Patroclus died, a far, far better man than you.
And look, you see how handsome and powerful I am?
The son of a great man, the mother who gave me life — A deathless goddess. But even for me, I tell you,
Death and the strong force of fate are waiting.
There will come a dawn or sunset or high noon
When a man will take my life in battle too — flinging a spear perhaps
Or whipping a deadly arrow off his bow.

As when in harp and song adept, a bard
Unlab'ring strains the chord to a new lyre.

"Say not a word in death's favor; I would rather be a paid servant in a poor man's house and be above ground than king of kings among the dead." -Achilles