Thoughts on Truth - Philosophy

Once more I leap up from the White Cliff, drunk with love, and plunge in the foaming waves. 376

Love, seeing me with graying beard, flies past; I feel the draught of his gold-gleaming wings. 379

He used to wear a rough cloak, pinched in at the waste, and wooden baubles in his ears, and round his ribs a hairless cowhide, the unwashed covering off a cheap shield; and he used to go with baker-women and with rent-boys on the make, seeking a phony livelihood. His neck was often in the stocks or on the rack, his back flogged with a rawhide whip, his hair and beard plucked out, the “poor wretch” Artemon. And now he wears gold ear-rings, rides about in traps, “Koisyra’s son”, and holds an ivory sunshade up, as ladylike as anything. 388

But now the city’s crown of walls is gone. 391

The vexatious War-god loves the brave… 393

My temples are grey, my hair is white, youth’s beauty past; my teeth rot away; life’s sweet delight not long now can last. So I often lament, afraid of Hell: it’s a dreadful tip, with a grim descent, as you know full well it’s a one-way trip. 395

Love's game of fivestones means frenzy and uproar on earth. 398

Love approves of fairness. 402(b)

I wish I could die. No other way out of these troubles can ever be found. 411(a)

Once again love has struck me with his mighty axe like a smith, and doused me in the icy mountain stream. 413

Once more I’m in love and not in love, once more insane and not insane. 428

He doesn't bar the doors and sleep in peace. 431

I like him not, who when he drinks by the full bowl tells only of disputes and tearful war, but rather him who blends the Muses’ boon with Love’s, and turns his mind to good cheer and delight. El. 2