Quotes from Aeschylus

Here he lies like something melting away. His mother's blood comes quaking howling brassing bawling blacking down his mad little veins.

Only when man's life comes to its end in prosperity can one call that man fortunate.

Death is a softer thing by far than tyranny.

Give me an answer which is plain to understand.

When evil come on those we dearly love, never shall we betray them.

In every enterprise is no greater evil than bad companionship.

radiant dreams are passing in the night, the memories throb with sorrow, joy with pain . . . it is pain to dream and see desires slip through the arms, a vision lost for ever winging down the moving drifts of sleep.

Look - can't you see? The more you kick against the pricks, the more you suffer.

and life beats on, and we nurse our lives with tears, to the sound of ripping linen beat our robes in sorrow, close to the breast the beats throb and laughter's gone and fortune throbs and throbs.

No man can go through life and reach the end unharmed. Aye, trouble is now, and trouble still to come.

Here I am. Look no furter. No one loves you more than I.

Cry Sorrow, sorrow--yet let good prevail.

Man must suffer to be wise. Head-winds heavy with past iol Stray his course and cooud his heart; Sorrow takes the blind soul's part-- Man grows wise against his will. For powers who rule from thrones above By ruthlessness commend their love.

Zeus, whose will has marked for man The sole way where wisdom lies; Ordered one eternal plan: Man must suffer to be wise. Head-winds heavy with past ill Stray his course and cloud his heart: Sorrow takes the blind soul's part - Man grows wise against his will. For powers who rule from thrones above By ruthlessness commend their love.

But to speak ill of people at hand who give no cause for blame, is to assume a right far distinct from justice.

Let me attain no envied wealth, let me not plunder cities, neither be taken in turn, and face life in the power of another.

Old men are always young enough to learn, with profit.

For not many men . . . can love a friend who fortune prospers without envying; and about the envious brain cold poison clings and doubles all the pain life brings him. His own woundings he must nurse, and feel another's gladness like a curse.

I have not need to promise what I cannot do.

Excessive fear is always powerless.

This is a sickness rooted and inherent in the nature of a tyranny: that he that holds it does not trust his friends.

A curse burns bright on crime.

Trust my folly then, since it is best for a man truly wise to be thought a fool.

Let there be less suffering . . . give us the sense to live on what we need.