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P210 "Now I think no riches can compare with being alive, not even those they say this well-built Ilion stored up in peace before the Akhaians came. Neither could all the Archer’s shrine contains at rocky Python, in the crypt of stone. A man may come by cattle and sheep in raids; tripods he buys and tawny-headed horses; but his life’s breath cannot be hunted back or be recaptured once it pass his lips. My mother, Thetis of the silvery feet, tells me of two possible destinies carrying toward death: two ways: id on the one hand I remain to fight around Troy town, I lose all hope of home but gain unfading glory; on the other, if I said back to my own land my glory fails - but a long life lies ahead for me. To all the rest of you I say:’Sail homeL you will not now see Ilion’s last hour,’ for Zeus who views the wide world held his sheltering hand over that city, and her troops have taken heart. “

P432 The great runner groaned and answered: “” Mother, yes, the master of high Olympus brought it all about., but how have I benefited ? MY greatest friend is gone: Patroklos, comrade in arms, whom I held dear above all others - dear as myself - now gone, lost: Hector cut him down, despoiled him of my own arms, massive and fine, a wonder in all men’s eyes. The gods gave them to Peleus that day they put you in a mortal’s bed - how I wish the immortals of the sea had been your only consorts! How I wish Peleus had taken a mortal queen! Sorrow immeasurable is in stone for you as well, when your own child is lost: never again on his homecoming day will you embrace him! I must reject this life, my heart tells me, reject the world of men, if Hector does not feel my battering spear tear the life out of him, making him pay in his own blood for the slaughter of Patroklos!”

P440 “Ah, god, what empty prophecy I made that day to cheer Menoitios in his megaton! P promised him his honored son, brought back to Opoeis, as pillager of Ilion bearing his share of spoils. But Zeus will not fulfill what men design, not all of it. Both he and I were destined to stain the sam earth dark red here at Troy. No going home for me; no welcome there from Peleus, master of horse, or from my mother, Thetis. Here the earth will hold me under. Therefore, as I must follow you into the grave, I will not give you burial, Patroklos, until I carry back the gear and head of him who killed you, noble friend. Before your funeral pyre I’ll cut the throats of twelve resplendent children of the Trojans - that is my murdering fury at your death. But while you lie here by the swanlike ships, night and day, close by, deep-breasted women of Troy, and Dardan women, must lament and weep hot tears, all those whom we acquired by labor in assault, by the long spear, pillaging the fat market towns of men.”

P443 Thetis answered, tear on cheek: “Hephaistos, who among all Olympian goddesses endured anxiety and pain like mine? Zeus chose me, from all of them for this! Of sea-nymphs I alone was given in thrall to a mortal warrior, Peleus Aiakides, and I endured a mortal warrior’s bed many a time, with desire. Now Peleus lies far gone in age in his great hall, and I have other pain. Our son, bestowed on me and nursed by me, became a hero unsurpassed He grew like a green shoots I cherished him like a flowering orchard tree, only to send him in the ships to Ilion to war with Trojans. Now I shall never see him entering Peleus’ hall, his home, again. But even while he lives, beholding sunlight, suffering is his lot. I have no power to help him, though I go to him. A girl, his prize from the Akhaians, Agamemnon took out of his hands to make his own, and ah, he pined with burning heart@ The Trojans rolled the Akhaians back on the ship sterns, and left them no escape. The Argive officers begged my son’s help, offering every girl, but he would not defend them from disaster. Arming Patroklos in his own war-gear, he sent him in action, and then given Hector the honor of that deed. On this account I am here to beg you: if you will, provide for my doomed son a shield and created helm, good legging-greaves, fitted with ankle clasps, a curtals, too. his own armor was lost when his great friend went down before the Trojans. Now my son lies prone on the hard ground in grief.”

P512 The old man wrenched at his grey hair and pulled out hands of it in both his hands, but moved Lord Hector not at all. The young man’s mother wailed from the tower across, above the portal, streaming tears, and loosening her robe with one hand, held her breast out in the other, saying: “Hector, my child, be moved by this, an pity me, if ever I unbound a questing breast for you.Think of these things, dear child; defend yourself against the killer this side of the wall, not hand to hand. He has no pity. If he brings you down, I shall no longer be allowed to mourn you laid out on your bed, dear branch in flower, born of me! And neither will your lady, so endowed with gifts. For from us both, dogs will devour you by the Argive ships.”

P568 The woman’s voice broke as she answered: “Sorrow, sorrow. Where is the wisdom now that made you famous in the old days, near and far? How can you ever face the Akhaian ships or wish to go alone before those eyes, the eyes of one who stripped your sons battle, how many, and how brave? Iron must be the heart within you. If he sees you, takes you, savage and wayward as the man is, he’ll have no mercy and no shame. Better that we should mourn together in our hall. Almighty fate spun this thing for our sons the day I bore him: destined him to feed the wild dogs after death, being far from us when he went down before the stronger man. I could devour the vitals of that man, leeching into his living flesh! He’d know pain then - pain like mine for my dead son. It was coward the Akhaian killed; he stood and fought for the sweet wives of Troy, with no more thought of flight or taking cover."