The Long Historian Of My

We Mortals Hear Only The News, And Know Nothing At All.

And Here I Am Using My Own Lungs Like A Sucker.

He Knew How To Say Many False Things That Were Like True Sayings.

But You, Achilles,/ There Is Not A Man In The World More Blest Than You--/ There Never Has Been, Never Will Be One./ Time Was, When You Were Alive, We Argives/ Honored You As A God, And Now Down Here, I See/ You Lord It Over The Dead In All Your Power./ So Grieve No More At Dying, Great Achilles.’ I Reassured The Ghost, But He Broke Out Protesting,/ ‘no Winning Words About Death To Me, Shining Odysseus!/ By God, I’d Rather Slave On Earth For Another Man--/ Some Dirt-poor Tenant Farmer Who Scrapes To Keep Alive—than Rule Down Here Over All The Breathless Dead.

No One Can Hurry Me Down To Hades Before My Time, But If A Man's Hour Is Come, Be He Brave Or Be He Coward, There Is No Escape For Him When He Has Once Been Born.