Men grow tired of sleep, love, singing and dancing, sooner than war.
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How prone to doubt, how cautious are the wise!
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Why so much grief for me? No man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate. And fate? No one alive has ever escaped it, neither brave man nor coward...
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The gods granted us misery, in jealousy over the thought that we two, always together, should enjoy our youth, and then come to the threshold of old a...
