And Here I Am Using

Like A Girl, A Baby Running After Her Mother, Begging To Be Picked Up, And She Tugs On Her Skirts, Holding Her Back As She Tries To Hurry Off—all Tears, Fawning Up At Her, Till She Takes Her In Her Arms… That’s How You Look, Patroclus, Streaming Live Tears.

Bear Patiently, My Heart, For You Have Suffered Heavier Things.

A Man Dies Still If He Has Done Nothing, As One Who Has Done Much.

For Love Deceives The Best Of Woman Kind.

Look Now How Mortals Are Blaming The Gods, For They Say That Evils Come From Us, But In Fact They Themselves Have Woes Beyond Their Share Because Of Their Own Follies.