Troy owes to Homer what whist owes to Hoyle

And overpowered by memory
Both men gave way to grief. Priam wept freely
For man - killing Hector, throbbing, crouching
Before Achilles' feet as Achilles wept himself,
Now for his father, now for Patroclus once again
And their sobbing rose and fell throughout the house.

Choose,' she says, reaching out towards him. 'Choose to which of us the apple most belongs...

Oh my, ... If you're going to give up a homer, you might as well give it up like that. That was a long one. The fan couldn't even throw it back on the field.

There is no such thing as a life of passion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever shave themselves in such a state?

The poor dog, in life the firmest friend. The first to welcome, foremost to defend.