Lit Quotes

I murmur deep in darkness / sore at heart; my hope is gone now," they lament still the spirit sings, drawing deep . . . / Hope is gone utterly, / the sweet strength is far away

Aeschylus Agamemnon Chorus senses a sudden foreboding, despite Agamemnon's homecoming and the apparent restoration of order to Argos

I swept from these halls / the murder, the sin, and the fury"

Aeschylus Agamemnon Clytemnestra boasting about ending the ancestral curse Her hubris dooms her as well

With the sword he struck, / with the sword he paid for his own act

Aeschylus Agamemnon Clytemnestra justifying muder

"Now I am making an end of my anger. It does no become me/unrelentingly to rage on."

Achilles speaking to Agammenon, his point is that he will forget his anger & Ag will to. The argument is stupid & Achilles wishes Helen had been killed long ago so they wouldn't be fighting each other; he also fears that this quarrel b/t them will long exist in the Achaian's memory

"I sat by the ships, a useless burden, though there are better in Assembly- so may this strife of men and gods be done with."

Achilles' remorse for his hand in Patroclus death Book 22

"No more entreating, dog, by knees or parents. I only wish my fury would compel me To cut away your flesh and eat it raw For what you've done. No one can keep the dogs Off of your head, not if they brought me ransom Of ten or twenty times as much, or more."

Achilles, as he kills Hector Book 24

"But why must the Argives fight the Trojans? Why did Atreus' son assemble and bring us? Wasn't it for Helen's sake? Are Atreus' sons the only men who love their wives?"

Achilles, questioning the motives for the Trojan war as Odysseus tries to bring him back to the fighting Book 16

Never once have you taken courage in your heart to arm with your people/for battle, or go into ambuscade with the best of the Achaians.

Achilleus (aka Pelion, or son of Peleus) to Agamemnon (aka Atriedes or son of Atreus)

Are the sons of Atreus alone among mortal men the ones/who liver their wives?

Achilleus complaining about Agamemnon taking Brisieus, his woman/prize. "He didn't take anyone else's wife...but he took mine. I loved her but he doesn't see that. Does Agamemnon think the sons of Atreus are the only ones who love their wives? He has dishonored me."

O wrapped in shamelessness, with your mind forever on profit, /how shall anyone of the Achaians readily obey you/either to go on a journey or to fight men strongly in battle?

Achilleus speaking to Agamemnon

For as I detest the doorways of Death, I detest that man, who/hides one thing in the depths of his heart, and speaks forth another.

Achilleus to Odysseus discussing Achilleus' problem with Agamemnon.

Fate is the same for the man who holds back, the same if he fights hard. /We are all held in a single honour, the brave with the weaklings. A man dies still if he has done nothing, as one who has done much.

Achilleus to Odysseus, saying death will come regardless of any actions or possessions. As in, Agamemnon's proposal of prizes to Achilleus will not fix anything or change anything.

"That gall of anger swarms like smoke inside of a man's heart/and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.

Achilleus to his mother, Thetis; description of anger as something that overtakes the heart, and becomes more important than anything else.

Such state becomes the gods," he tells her, "and none beside. / I am a mortal, a man; I cannot trample upon / these tinted splendors without fear thrown in my path

Aeschylus Agamemnon Agamemnon rebukes his wife for laying the carpet before him saying that, were he to walk on it, he would display unseemly pride and incur the wrath of the gods

Had Agamemnon taken all / the wounds the tale whereof was carried home to me, / he had been cut full of gashes like a fishing net

Aeschylus Agamemnon Every day brought a new rumor of his death or injury

Caught in the folded web's / entanglement she pinions him and with the black horn / strikes. And he crumples in the watered bath

Aeschylus Agamemnon Cassandra prophesizing Agamemnon's death

her supplications and her cries of father / were nothing, nor the child's lamentation / to kings passioned for battle . . . Pouring then to the ground her saffron mantle / she struck the sacrificers with / the eyes' arrows of pity . . .

Aeschylus Agamemnon Death of Iphigenia

Were I to tell you of the hard work done, the nights / exposed, the cramped sea-quarters, the foul beds / . . . why must a live man count the numbers of the slain?"

Aeschylus Agamemnon Herald's description of the army's sufferings outside Troy is vivid and powerful

The god of war, money changer of dead bodies, / held the balance of his spear in the fighting, / and from the corpse-fires at Ilium / sent their dearest the dust / heavy and bitter with tears shed / packing smooth the urns with / ashes that once were men" (

Aeschylus Agamemnon Terrible cost of Trojan War

How shall you be lord of the men of Argos, you / who planned the murder . . . yet could not dare / to act it out?

Aeschylus Agamemnon The Chorus taunts Aegisthus, saying that he allowed a woman to do the deed for him, and tells him that he will be executed for the crime.

the vaunt of high glory / is bitterness; for God's thunderbolts . . .

Aeschylus Agamemnon Too much success leads inevitably to a fall which, of course, is Agamemnon's fate.

I call a long farewell to all our unhappiness. / For us, survivors of the Argive armament, / the pleasure wins, pain casts no weight in the opposite scale"

Aeschylus Agamemnon the Herald immediately puts the horrors of battle behind him and embraces the glory of victory

That, I tell you, is the cause of the man's fall you see here; and I had the right in justice to scheme this killing. I was the third child after ten others; while I was tiny, in my swaddling, Atreus expelled me together with my hapless father; and when I was grown up, Justice brought me back again. I laid my hands on this man from outside, fitting together every device of ill intent. So even death is well for me too, now I have seen this man in Justice's toils.

Aeschylus Agamemnon Aegisthus continues with the idea that Agamemnon got what was coming to him, and that this was an instance of justice - indeed, that it was "Justice" (i.e., the goddess who personifies it) who brought him back to Argos.

Leda's child, guardian of my house, your speech was appropriate to my absence: you drew it out at length. Fair praise, however, is a reward which should come from others. Besides, do not pamper me in a woman's fashion; and do not give me gawping or obeisance crying from the ground as if I were some barbarian, or strew my way with vestments and open it to jealousy. It is the gods these things should magnify; as a mortal it is impossible for me to walk on beautiful embroideries without fear. I tell you, show me respect as a man, not as a god. Foot-wipers and embroideries cry out different meanings; a mind to avoid wrong is god's greatest gift. The man to call blest with success is the man who has ended his life in precious well-being. If I could fare in everything as I fare now, I shall be quite confident.

Aeschylus Agamemnon Agamemnon's speech here, shortly after his arrival back home in Argos, is elaborately concerned with a certain meaning of justice: giving people what they deserve, though here Agamemnon expands this to include ideas, things, and gods as well.

Not, I swear, that he and I shall die without retribution from the gods: there will come another in turn to avenge us, a child born to kill his mother, one to exact penalty for his father. A fugitive, a wanderer, an exile from this land he will come home to put a coping-stone on these ruinous acts for his family; his father thrown on his back on the ground will bring him back. Why then do I lament so piteously? Now that I have seen Ilion's city faring as it fared, and those who took the city getting their outcome like this in the gods' judgment, I shall go and do it: I will submit to death."

Aeschylus Agamemnon Cassandra consents to die when she realizes (a) that someone (i.e., Orestes) will come to avenge her and Agamemnon, and (b) that the death of Agamemnon will be payback for what happened to Troy.

You are great in your plans, arrogant in your talk - exactly as your mind is mad from this event and the gore which drips from it; the thick smear of blood in your eyes is obvious. Payment in return you have still to make, and you shall be deprived of your friends; a blow is to pay for a blow.

Aeschylus Agamemnon In these words to Clytemnestra after they learn what she has done, the Chorus presents a certain view of justice: "a blow is to pay for a blow."

And so to this man here the blessed gods granted the taking of Priam's city, and he has come home with the gods' honour; but now if he is to pay for the blood of those before, and by his death to ordain vengeance for the dead in other deaths, who of mortal men, when he hears this, would boast of birth to a destiny without harm?

Aeschylus Agamemnon The Chorus speaks these words just before they hear the death-cries of Agamemnon from inside the palace. But clearly they have taken some of the hint from Cassandra's prophecy.

loud and ringing cry was of war, from anger, like vultures which in extreme anguish for their young wheel and spiral high above their nests [...]. On high, someone - either Apollo or Pan or Zeus - hears the birds' wailed lament, the sharp cry of these settlers in their home, and for the transgressors' later punishment sends a Fury. In just this way the mighty Zeus who guards hospitality sends Atreus' sons against Alexandros, because of a woman with many husbands"

Aeschylus Agamemnon This is how the Chorus first describes the Trojan War, by comparing Menelaus and Agamemnon to vultures that are enraged because their chicks have been killed.

O kindly day, bringing justice with its light! Now at last I would say that the gods keep watch from above upon earth's evil deeds, as avengers of mankind, when I see this man lying here in the woven robes of the Furies; as I dearly wanted, he pays in full for what his father's hand contrived.

Aeschylus Agamemnon You might want to compare these words of Aegisthus with those of the Chorus in lines 367-372. In both cases, they view the suffering of evil-doers as proof that the gods intervene in human life to protect justice.

To have good success - this is god among men, and more, even, than god Justice weighs down with its dark, quickly upon some in the light; for some mid-way to the dark, delay grows full with time; some have night with no fixed end.

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Chorus: human beings worship success, and justice comes to everybody sooner or later.

Wait, my son—no respect for this, my child? The breast you held, drowsing away the hours, soft gums tugging the milk that made you grow?

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Clytamnestra says these words as Orestes is dragging her towards the body of Aigisthos in order to murder her alongside her lover. After taking on the attributes of a calculating man throughout the Agamemnon and calling for an axe to fight off Orestes, Clytamnestra here reverts to her maternal role in a last ditch attempt to fend off death. While there is a possibility that she is sincere in her wish to return to proper female norms, it is too late now to cross back into that territory. The audience is likely to have looked with disgust upon this emotional gesture, seeing it as a hypocritical act. Not only have we watched Clytamnestra forgoing her female role in favor of taking a strong male position over the household, but we have also learned from Cilissa that Clytamnestra did not, in fact, nurse Orestes at her breast as she claims. In defense of Clytamnestra, one could argue that Cilissa exaggerated her role in Orestes's upbringing in order to further stain Clytamnestra's reputation. However, the audience would have sided with Cilissa in this matter.

Oh! Brutal, you were brutal, mother, so cruel with the funeral then, cruel enough to bury the king with his people not there, your husband without mourning, with no lament!

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Electra continues to criticize her mother for not acting in accordance with appropriate family behavior.

How am I to speak sensibly to my father, how am I to pray to him? Am I to say that I bring [these mourning-libations] to a dear husband from a dear wife, from my mother? I have no words for that, no words I should say as I pour this offering on my father's tomb. Or am I to follow men's custom and make my speech this, that he should well repay those who send these offerings, and with a gift which their goodness deserves?"

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Electra might really be saying here is that she wants Agamemnon's spirit to bring vengeance upon Clytemnestra.

And I swear it wasn't she, the killer, who cut it off either - yes, my own mother, quite untrue to that name because of the godless thoughts she possesses towards her children. [...] Oh! If only it had a voice and intelligence in it, like a messenger, so that I wasn't shaking with uncertainty, and it was quite clear whether to reject this lock of hair, with loathing, it really has been cut from an enemy's head - or as a kinsman's it could share my sorrow, a glory for this tomb and an honour for my father!

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Here we see Electra wondering who could have sent the lock of hair that she finds at the tomb of her father, Agamemnon. Eventually, of course, she concludes that it belonged to her brother, Orestes.

Loxias' great and powerful oracle will not betray me, I tell you, which orders me to go through this danger. Loud and often it cried out, proclaiming ruin wintry-cold to strike up into my heart's warmth if I do not pursue those guilty for my father's death in the same way; it says I am to kill them in return. It asserted I should pay for this with my own dear life, and have much unpleasant evil, maddened like a bull in a punishment which will keep me from my property."

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Here, Orestes reveals how the oracle of Apollo (referred to here by another of his names, "Loxias"), commanded him to avenge the murder of his father. The irony, of course, is that it says Orestes will suffer horrible torments if he DOESN'T avenge the murder ("ruin wintry-cold" would "strike up into [his] heart's warmth"), but that he will also suffer horrible torments if he DOES avenge the murder (he will "pay for this with [his] own dear life, and have much unpleasant evil," and so on).

Certainly there is a law that bloodshed dripping to the ground demands another's blood. The havoc from those slain before shouts the Fury on who brings fresh ruin upon ruin

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Here, we see the Chorus voicing the traditional view that whenever a murder happens, revenge must follow.

Those are the prayers I say for ourselves; for our enemies I pray for your avenger to appear, father, and for your killers to die justly in return. In speaking this curse for evil upon them, I am putting it in the open before those whose concern it may be. For ourselves, send up here above the good which we ask, with the help of the gods, and of Earth, and of Justice who brings victory!

Aeschylus Libation Bearers In these words of Electra, we can see her attempting, once again, to fuse (and perhaps confuse?) the ideas of Justice and Revenge. She prays for an avenger to come, but she wants that vengeance to happen in accordance with Justice.

They killed an honored man by cunning, so they die by cunning, caught in the same noose.

Aeschylus Libation Bearers Orestes speaks these words as he begins to outline his plan for killing Aigisthos. It is significant that in laying out this plan, he makes no mention of what he intends to do about Clytamnestra. However, while he does not address it directly, he alludes to his intention to kill his mother in this quote, as he speaks of the killers in the plural form. Orestes's statement pays homage to the old laws laid out by the chorus in the quote discussed previously. Although warriors in battle should confront their enemies directly, Clytamnestra and Aigisthos forfeited that right when they tricked Agamemnon into making himself vulnerable to murder. Thus, Orestes is justified in his approach to the confrontation. This line is echoed again nearing the climax of the play, when Clytamnestra asks who is shouting up and down the halls, and the servant tells her that the dead are killing the living. Immediately recognizing that Orestes has plotted against her, Clytamnestra says, "By cunning we die, precisely as we killed" (line 888).

For word of hate let word of hate be said, cries Justice. Stroke for bloody stroke must be paid. The one who acts must suffer. Three generations long this law resounds.

Aeschylus Libation Bearers The chorus says these words at the end of their first section in the kommos. They are the mouthpieces of the primitive law of retribution, which mandated that blood be paid for with blood. One who failed to avenge the murder of a kinsman was as guilty as if he had committed the crime himself. Justice demands that evil deeds be punished by further evil deeds. The chorus says these words in order to stir up hate and anger in Orestes and Electra. They insist that the old order of law must be respected, and that Agamemnon's murderers must pay for their crimes. While the chorus celebrates Orestes's intention to kill the killers, they show little awareness or concern for his fate after he has completed the act. They focus only on the immediate claims of Justice, which demand that Orestes turn murderer himself. It will be up to Apollo and Athena in the Eumenides to break this cycle of bloodshed.

But you, when your turn in the action comes, be strong. When she cries 'Son!' cry out 'My father's son!' Go through with the murder—innocent at last.

Aeschylus Libation Bearers The chorus speaks these words in their last ode before the climax of the play. After praying to Zeus, the household gods, Apollo and Hermes, the chorus addresses Orestes (figuratively, not literally.) Anticipating Clytamnestra's emotional hold over her son, the chorus warns him that when she appeals to him as a mother, he should deny his bond to her and call himself Agamemnon's son only. This way, he will not really be guilty of matricide, as Clytamnestra has been discredited as his mother. Since Clytamnestra has taken on the attributes of a man and violated the safety of the home, she no longer has a right to the privileges of a mother and deserves to die like a man. This quote also reflects the chorus's naiveté regarding the outcome of Orestes's actions. They engage in the same kind of wishful thinking for which they criticized Orestes and Electra after the kommos. We will soon discover that the Furies do not consider Orestes to be innocent at all.

You killed the man you ought not; so you must suffer the thing you should not.

Aeschylus Libation Bearers These are the last words Orestes speaks to his mother Clytemnestra before driving her into the palace to be killed.

The bloodshed drunk up by Earth its nurse - the vengeful blood is set hard, and it will not dissolve

Aeschylus Libation Bearers These words are spoken by the Chorus of slave women at the tomb of Agamemnon.

You great powers of Fate, may Zeus grant an ending here in which justice changes to the other side! 'In return for hostile words, let hostile words be paid!' - in exacting what is due, Justice shouts that aloud, and 'In return for bloody blow, let bloody blow repay!' 'For the doer, suffering' is a saying three times old.

Aeschylus Libation Bearers These words continue the Chorus's belief that revenge and justice go hand in hand. They also seem to think that Justice is basically about giving back as good as you get.

Such oracles are persuasive, don't you think? And even if I am not convinced, the rough work of the world is still to do. So many yearnings meet and urge me on

Aeschylus Libation Bearers This passage comes at the end of Orestes's explanation for why he has returned again to Argos. Standing at Agamemnon's grave with Electra and the chorus, Orestes describes how Apollo sent an oracle commanding him to return home to avenge his father's death. If he should refuse, he would suffer horrible diseases and exile from every human community. His description is vivid and horrifying, enough to convince anyone to do the god's bidding. However, Orestes explains that other reasons have motivated his return besides Apollo's threats. His sorrow for his father, his poverty, and his anger over Aigisthos's usurpation of his father's throne. This distinction between different motivations proves to be crucial at the climax of the play, when suddenly all of Orestes's resolve disappears just as he is about to kill Clytamnestra. While his personal reasons for seeking vengeance drive his actions through most of the play, it is Apollo's command that forces him to complete the deed. This is significant because it shows that while Orestes was willing to take personal responsibility for his matricide, his actual motivation at the moment of the murder comes from a divine source. Because Apollo was responsible for the actual crime being carried out, he will protect Orestes from the Furies when they come to claim their retribution in the Eumenides.

Wholly dishonoured, you say: oh, the hurt! For my father's dishonour she shall pay, then, with the aid of the gods and with the aid of my own hands. Oh to take her life from her, and then to die!

Aeschylus Libation Bearers With these words, Orestes expresses in very strong, emotional terms, his desire to get revenge on his mother for the murder of his father.

butchered, I tell you—hands lopped, strung to shackle his neck and arms! So she worked, she buried him, made your life a hell. Your father mutilated—do you hear?

Aeschylus Libation Bearers the chorus implants an image in Orestes and Electra's minds that will not fade easily, incites them to action

Do not weary [...] by brooding on this ordeal, but go to Pallas' city and seat yourself there, clasping her ancient statue; and there we shall have judges for this matter, and words to win them over, and find means to release you once and for all from these miseries."

Aeschylus The Eumenides Apollo is convinced that he will find "words" to "win [...] over" the judges to Orestes's side and "find means to release [him] once and for all from these miseries

Forever quarreling is dear to your heart, and wars and battles; and if you are very strong indeed, that is a god's gift.

Agamemnon to Achilleus

We everlasting gods . . . Ah what chilling blows we suffer—thanks to our own conflicting wills— whenever we show these mortal men some kindness.

Ares voices this lament after being wounded by Diomedes in Book 5. His plaint concisely captures the Homeric relationship between gods and men and, perhaps, Homer's attitude toward that relationship. Homeric gods frequently intervene in the mortal world out of some kind of emotional attachment to the object of that intervention. Here, Ares describes this emotion as simply a desire to do "kindness," but kindness toward one mortal often translates into unkindness toward another—hence Ares' wound at the hands of Diomedes.

Let's go. We can't. Why not? We're waiting for Godot.

Beckett Waiting for Godot

Let's go. Yes, let's go. (They do not move).

Beckett Waiting for Godot

No use struggling...No use wriggling...The essential doesn't change

Beckett Waiting for Godot

as I sleeping, while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today? That with Estragon my friend, at this place, until the fall of night, I waited for Godot?

Beckett Waiting for Godot

If he came yesterday, and we weren't here you may be sure he won't come today .

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon

Nothing happens, nobody comes, nobody goes, it's awful

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon

Nothing of the kind, we hardly know him

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon

We all are born mad. Some remain so.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon

We always find something, eh Didi, to give us the impression we exist?

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon

What do we do now, now that we are happy?

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon

People are bloody ignorant apes.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon makes this response to Vladimir's statement that one of the thieves that was crucified next to Jesus was saved. Vladimir wonders why, if the Evangelists wrote four different accounts of Christ's death, does only one mention the thief's salvation. The passage occurs immediately before Godot is first mentioned and suggests that people are ignorant for believing in a god-like being that never appears.

Pale for weariness...of climbing heaven and gazing on the likes of us.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Estragon says this to Vladimir who contemplates the moon after the boy leaves with the message that Godot will not arrive but will appear tomorrow. Not only is humankind weary of waiting, but even the universe itself is tired. This, however, lessens the existentialist ideal that the universe is indifferent.

There's nothing to be done

Beckett Waiting for Godot First line of the play - Estragon

the tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops...let us not then speak ill of our generation, it is not any unhappier than its predecessors.

Beckett Waiting for Godot In this dark existential play Beckett would have us believe that humankind resides in a state of constant despair. Life is meaningless. Try as we might to change our lot, we are helpless in an indifferent universe and frozen by inertia.

fecum, testu, conard

Beckett Waiting for Godot Lucky

The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep, somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Pozzo

They give birth astride of a grave, the light gleams an instant, then it's night once more.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Pozzo

Yes, gentlemen, I cannot go for long without the society of my likes... even when the likeness is an imperfect one.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Pozzo condescendingly tells Estragon and Vladimir that he would like to spend time with them even though they are not perfect. Like all humans, Pozzo is lonely and seeks out the company of others even if they do not meet his standards. However, Estragon and Vladimir view Pozzo as a diversion for their unceasing boredom. This illustrates Beckett's theme of human dependence.

After having sucked all the good out of him you chuck him away like a . . . like a banana skin.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Pozzo has known Lucky for sixty years and has come to recognize that without him he wouldn't have learned half of what he knows. Yet, he is willing to sell him at a fair because he is no longer of use. Estragon is appalled by this and perhaps is fearful that one day Vladimir will also replace him.

He can't think without his hat

Beckett Waiting for Godot Pozzo on Lucky's hat

Astride of a grave and a difficult birth. Down in the hole, lingeringly, the grave digger puts on the forceps. We have time to grow old. The air is full of our cries... but habit is a great deadener.

Beckett Waiting for Godot Vladimir

But at this place, at this moment in time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not

Beckett Waiting for Godot Vladimir

In an instant all will vanish and we'll be alone once more, in the midst of nothingness

Beckett Waiting for Godot Vladimir

Let us not waste our time in idle discourse!...Let us do something, while we have the chance! It is not every day that we are needed. Not indeed that we personally are needed. Others would meet the case equally well, if not better. To all mankind they were addressed, those cries for help still ringing in our ears! But at this place, at this moment of time, all mankind is us, whether we like it or not. Let us make the most of it, before it is too late!

Beckett Waiting for Godot Vladimir

This is becoming really insignificant

Beckett Waiting for Godot Vladimir

Was I sleeping while the others suffered? Am I sleeping now? Tomorrow, when I wake, or think I do, what shall I say of today?

Beckett Waiting for Godot Vladimir

Will night never come?

Beckett Waiting for Godot Vladimir

I won't let you spoil my war for me. Destroys the weak, does it? Well, what does peace do for'em, huh? War feeds its people better.

Brecht Mother Courage Courage delivers these forceful lines at her moment of greatest prosperity. Immediately before in the scene previous, she had cursed the war for its disfigurement of her daughter. Now she celebrates it, prefiguring her ultimately failure to learn from the horrors of war. As noted by a Sergeant in Scene One, war is her breadwinner. In Scene Six, the Chaplain similarly notes cynically that war, though degrading, provides for all the people's needs. Brecht poses war as Courage's good provider to insist that it is not a rupture of "business as usual" but the continuation of business by other means.

For that little bird whisper in your ear "That's all very well but wait a year And we will join the big brass band And with our trumpet in our hand We will march in lockstep with the rest. But one day, look! The battalions wheel! The whole thing swings from east to west! And falling on our knees, we squeal: The Lord God, He knows best! (But don't give me that!)"

Brecht Mother Courage Described by Brecht as at her most depraved point in the play, Mother Courage sings the "Song of the Great Capitulation" to a young soldier seeking to rectify an injustice performed by his captain. She herself awaits the captain to file a complaint against the army. Intended to deflate the young soldier's rage, the song tells of a proud man who joins the army and quickly submits to both its discipline and surrender. His capitulation is the capitulation of the masses, thus the shift from the "you" to "we." It ends in a quivering before God, a motif that prefigures in the capitulation of the peasants in Scene 11. Here Courage learns by teaching, her cynical realism driving both the soldier and then herself from the officer's tent. To succeed, this scene must above all alienate the spectator from the spectacle or else risk seducing it with the pleasures of capitulation. Note in this respect how Brecht also underlines Courage's bitter awareness of capitulation's indignity with the parenthetical "But don't give me that!"

Curse the war!

Brecht Mother Courage Mother Courage finally has had enough of war when her daughter is disfigured, ensuring she can never have a husband or children. This shows she has some heart and sympathy.

I hope I can pull the wagon by myself. Yes, I'll manage, there's not much in it now. I must get back into business.

Brecht Mother Courage Relinquishing her daughter's corpse to the local peasants, Mother Courage resolves to continue her trade at the conclusion of the play, indicating for Brecht, as he notes programmatically in the Courage Model Book, that she has learned nothing. Once again she has lost a child while engaging in business. She understands nothing of what has come to pass, however, barely reacting to the peasants' accusation that she is to blame for the death of her child. Wearily, Courage presses on with business as usual, the business that serves as her material and psychical support. As with much of Mother Courage, the brilliance of this final scene lies in its staging. With the taking up of the wagon, Brecht envisions Courage crossing an empty space that recalls Scene one, showing her treading a full circle like a damned soul. The soldiers sing her trademark song, calling all to continue in the service of a war that continues across the generations.

It shows you want war, not peace, for what you get out of it. But don't forget the proverb: he who sups with the devil must use a long spoon.

Brecht Mother Courage The Chaplain chides Mother Courage for not wanting peace. He uses a proverb, as many of the characters do, to convey the folk wisdom that if you ally yourself to something dangerous like a war or the devil, you had better keep your distance or you will get devoured.

Peace is one big waste of equipment. Anything goes, no one gives a damn.

Brecht Mother Courage The Swedish sergeant traveling with the recruiting officer is disgusted at the disorganized land of plenty they are approaching. They have no use for their military equipment in time of peace.

War is like love, it always finds a way. Why should it end?

Brecht Mother Courage There is talk of peace, but the Chaplain convinces Mother Courage the war will never end.

No, there's nothing we can do. (To _____:) Pray, poor thing, pray! There's nothing we can do to stop this bloodshed, so even if you can't talk, at least pray. He hears, if no one else does.

Brecht Mother Courage This excerpt comes from Scene Eleven, the scene of Kattrin's murder. Here, upon discovering a Catholic regiment readying for a surprise attack on the town of Halle, the peasants with whom Mother Courage has left her wagon immediately capitulate. They are certain that there is nothing they can do and support each other in their belief. Ultimately, the only "action" possible for them is an appeal to God. Certainly their reaction recalls the "Song of the Great Capitulation." In the Model Book, Brecht underlines the horrifyingly ritual character of their surrender. Years of war have frozen them into patterns lamentation. The Model Book identifies this capitulation as one of the most alienating element of this more conventionally dramatic scene, a scene that could easily entrance the audience with its pathos. By elaborating their capitulation, the play invites the spectator to consider the peasants through critical eyes. Though silent, Kattrin will intervene where they fail, saving the children of Halle. She does not address her voice silently to God but to the town's defenses.

You all know honest Socrates Who always spoke the truth They owed him thanks for that, you'd think But what happened? Why, they put hemlock in his drink And swore that he misled the youth. How honest was this Socrates! Yet long before the day was out The consequence was clear, alas: His honesty had brought him to this pass. A man is better off without

Brecht Mother Courage This excerpt is from "The Song of the Great Souls of the Earth," a song that delivers another of Brecht's thematic pronouncements—that during war, virtues become fatal to those who possess them. This song tells of four great figures, Solomon, Julius Caesar, Socrates, and Saint Martin, who meet their dark fates due to their respective virtues, wisdom, bravery, honesty, and kindness. Thus, a "man is better off without." This refrain is ironic as the Cook sings the song for food. In other words, a man might do without virtues but not bread. Indeed, for the Cook, virtues are to be bartered for food, "try honesty, that should be worth a dinner" he cries. This song is also an allegory for Mother Courage and her children. Eilif is Caesar; Swiss Cheese is Socrates; and Kattrin is Saint Martin. Similarly, Courage's wisdom only brings about her ruin. Note the dissonances in this apparently transparent allegory. Swiss Cheese, for example, is not that similar to Socrates. Here Brecht exploits the apparently arbitrary relations between allegory's terms. In this case, the gap lies between the song and the characters. This manifest gap would hopefully impel the spectator to become aware of the structures that make these figurative relations possible

Let all of you who still survive/ Get out of bed and look alive!

Brecht Mother Courage This is part of Mother Courage's selling song as she rolls through the country rousing customers. This repeated refrain depicts her gusto for life, even in the midst of death.

Hey! Stay asleep, then, do! And what's the use of your sleeping? Here am I dishonoured like this among the other dead because of you, and with the slain ceaselessly reproaching me for those I killed; and I wander in shame. I tell you solemnly that they accuse me very much; and that although I have suffered so terribly from my closest kin, not one divine power is angry on my account, although I was slaughtered by the hands of a matricide.

By bringing the Ghost of Clytemnestra onstage, Aeschylus shows us that Orestes's actions in killing his mother were not merely abstract—there was a real victim involved, who gets to express her feelings in these lines.

All you ancestors were serf owners, owners of living souls. Do not human spirits look out at you from every leaf and stem?

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Anya tells Trophimof that he has caused her to no longer love the cherry orchard by making her realize that despite its beauty, it is the product of years of backbreaking labor by unpaid serfs. Her consciousness has been raised and she realizes that she can no longer live a life of luxury served by others but must go out into the world and work herself.

Life has gone by as if I never lived

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Firs mutters this during the last scene of the play where he lies ill after all have abandoned him. After a life of servile and selfless devotion, his "betters" have left him behind. Firs' death represents the real end of the feudal Russian way of life.

My mistress has come home; at last I've seen her. Now I'm ready to die.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Firs, the aging man who spent most of his life as a serf, continues to think like one. He has remained a serf in his mind, waiting longingly for six years for the return of his mistress Madame Ranevsky from Paris. He represents the old way of living in feudal Russia.

You are too refined.you should remember your place.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Lopakhin, the former serf now turned landowner, treats the nervous young servant Dunyasha first as familiar friend by confiding in her and then as an upstart servant who should know her place. This illustrates the great social change inherent in Russia's newfound class mobility

In all my life I never met anyone so frivolous as you two, so crazy and unbusinesslike. I tell you in plain Russian your property is going to be sold and you don't seem to understand what I say.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Madame Ranevsky and her brother Gayef insist they have written to their aunt to send them money but Lopakhin is shocked to find how little they have requested and insists such a small amount will never be enough to make the mortgage payment. This quote demonstrates how out of touch the aristocracy is while the former serf Lopakhin has a much clearer grasp of contemporary economics.

My love is like a stone tied round my neck; it's dragging me down to the bottom; but I love my stone. I can't live without it.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Madame Ranevsky says this to Trofimov after he attempts to get her to change her mind about returning to her abusive Parisian lover. He himself, he insists, is above love while she regrettably says she is beneath love.

You look boldly ahead; isn't it only that you don't see or divine anything terrible in the future; because life is still hidden from your young eyes.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Madame Ranevsky says this to the philosopher and perpetual student Trofimov after he insists that she face up to reality. She should have, he insists, taken action to ward off financial disaster by selling the cherry orchard while she attempts to make him understand how much the property means to her.

A hungry dog believes in nothing but meat.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Pishchik says this to Trophimof at the beginning of Act III. He is agreeing with Trophimof who has explained how much Pishtchik could have achieved had he not constantly felt the necessity to spend his time scrounging for money to pay off his loans.

She brought me over to the wash-stand here in this very room, the nursery as it was. 'Don't cry, little peasant,' she said. "You'll soon be as right as rain." [Pause]. Little peasant. It's true my father was a peasant, but here am I in my white waistcoat and brown boots, barging in like a bull in a china shop. The only thing is, I am rich.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard The speaker here is Lopakhin, in Act One. He is waiting in the nursery, with Dunyasha, for Ranevsky to arrive from the train station. The "she" in the passage is Ranevsky, and the passage does a great deal to characterize both her and Lopakhin, and the relationship between them. This relationship is the central relationship in The Cherry Orchard. The quote is taken from a longer passage in which Lopakhin worries about falling asleep in the nursery, when he should have been going out to meet Ranevsky at the train station. This worrying, plus his reference to himself as a "bull in a china shop," show Lopakhin to be self-conscious about his humble origins and lack of social graces. But he knows he has social status, and as if to demonstrate his bluntness, he reminds himself of where this status comes from—his money. When he talks about Ranevsky, he remarks, as everyone will do, on her kindness. But there is a note of tension here; he pauses when he remembers how she referred to him as "a peasant," as if he hears the note of condescension in her voice. Lopakhin has risen in social status since that encounter, and Ranevsky has fallen. It is important to note that it is Lopakhin the wealthy businessman, who has difficulty remembering the word "peasant." It shows that Lopakhin is conflicted between his status as a businessman and his status as a former peasant—between his present and his past. It also foreshadows Ranevsky's own inner conflict between her present and her own past.

Then last year, when the villa had to be sold to pay my debts, I left for Paris where he robbed me, deserted me and took up with another woman. I tried to poison myself. It was also stupid and humiliating. Then I suddenly longed to be back in Russia, back in my own country with my little girl. [Dries her eyes.] Lord, lord, be merciful, forgive me my sins. Don't punish me any more.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard The speaker is Ranevsky, and she is speaking to Trofimov, Gayev, and Lopakhin in Act Two. They are in the countryside together, discussing the imminent auction, at which Ranevsky's estate will be sold to pay her debts. She explains to them the entire sordid story of how she left for France after the drowning death of her son Grisha and was followed into exile by her lover, with whom she had been having an affair before the death of her husband. She admits here to being driven to attempt suicide at one point. She is thus a complicated character, and even her own brother at one point calls her a "loose" woman and implies that she has gotten what she deserves for a life of sin. This is a point where differences between Chekhov's time and ours may significantly affect the way we see his characters. A modern response to Ranevsky might be one of unmitigated pity, whereas Chekhov may have expected his audience to feel a mixture of pity and revulsion. The awfulness of Ranevksy's recent experience also helps to explain her desire to reconnect with her past—according to her, after these events she just felt a desire to return to her "home country" once more—and casts her more irresponsible spending behavior in a more positive light. Ranevsky presents herself in this passage as a naturally loving and generous person, who is often taken advantage of by others.

Oh, my childhood, my innocent childhood! This is the nursery where I slept and I used to look out at the orchard from here! Look, Mother's walking in the orchard. In a white dress

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard The speaker is Ranevsky, speaking in Act One. She has just returned to her estate after five years in self-imposed exile in France, and she and her family and friends are all congregated together in the "nursery," the room of her house where she and her brother Leonid grew up. She looks out the window at her beloved cherry orchard that is now in bloom, and momentarily thinks she sees her dead mother walking through it. Upon closer examination, she realizes that it is just a branch, whose white blooms looked like a woman's dress. The passage shows two related things about Ranevsky, the protagonist of the story. First, the fact that she seems to undergo a hallucination shows her to be disconnected from reality. This is a defining character trait of Ranevsky, and much more than Lopakhin or Trofimov, it is her main antagonist in the story, the one thing barring her from achieving happiness. Furthermore, the content and location of the hallucination reveal the nature of Ranevsky's disconnect. She is seeking refuge in the past, her "innocent childhood." For her, the cherry orchard is a symbol of that past, the sight she would see through her bedroom window every morning, and the fact that she fantasizes seeing her dead mother walking through it merely confirms that impression.

[Stamps his feet.] Don't laugh at me. If my father and grandfather could only rise from their graves and see what happened, see how their Yermolay- Yermolay who was always being beaten, who could hardly write his name and ran round barefoot in the winter-how this same Yermolay bought this estate, the most beautiful estate in the world.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard These lines are spoken by Lopakhin, immediately after he buys the orchard. They show Lopakhin as a man who seems to have resolved his internal conflict between his past and his present. Additionally, they show Lopakhin as a man who wishes that his ancestors could see what their descendent has accomplished and a man who gives his acquisition of the orchard, which he calls in hyperbole "the most beautiful place in the world," a mythical and historical importance. It also shows the fundamental contradiction in Lopakhin. He is a man who at once recognizes the beauty of the orchard, and yet has no compunctions about destroying it for profit. He is a man who has professed his affection and care for Ranevsky many times and told her he loved her "like a sister," or even more, yet here he is practically gloating over his acquisition of her orchard over her, driving her to tears. Lopakhin is at once a kind, empathetic, character, and the symbol of a ruthless, money-driven society that will destroy beauty for profit.

All Russia is our orchard. The earth is so wide, so beautiful, so full of wonderful places. [Pause]. Just think, Anya. Your grandfather, your great-grandfather and all your ancestors owned serfs, they owned human souls. Don't you see that from every cherry-tree in the orchard, from every leaf and every trunk, men and women are gazing at you? if we're to start living in the present isn't it abundantly clear that we've first got to redeem our past and make a clean break with it? And we can only redeem it by suffering and getting down to real work for a change.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Trofimov speaks these lines, in Act Three, to Anya. This is after Trofimov's speech on the virtues of work and his attack on the Russian intellectual. The purifying quality of suffering is a theme prevalent throughout much of Russian literature, but Trofimov yokes it to a faith in human progress and reason and a Social Darwinist attitude towards society to produce his utopian vision of the future. Trofimov thus reflects Chekhov's interest in Darwin's theory of evolution and Social Darwinist thought. Trofimov, like Ranevsky, sees the cherry orchard as being a symbol of the past. But for Trofimov, the past was a time full of oppression and injustice, due to the institution of serfdom. In his hands, the images of cherry trees become threatening and ominous. The orchard is haunted by the ghosts of the past, and they are the ghosts of former slaves, not the pleasant ghost of Ranevsky's mother whom Ranevsky sees walking amidst the orchard's white blooms. For Ranevsky, the past is a place of refuge from a bitter and unkind present, whereas for Trofimov, the past is something that must be escaped from and left behind in order for progress to be made toward a better future.

Perhaps man has a hundred senses, and when he dies the five senses that we know perish with him, and the other ninety-five remain alive . . . Everything that is unattainable for us now will one day be near and clear . . . But we must work.

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Trofimov the tutor expresses a philosophy of idealism to Lopakhin, Madame Ranevsky, Anya and Gayef in his argument that the days of the aristocracy are over and now all classes must work.

What's the use of talking? You can see for yourself that this is a barbarous country; the people have no morals; and the boredom!

Chekhov The Cherry Orchard Yasha, the self-serving servant complains about his Russian homeland. Since he has seen Paris, he finds Russia intolerable and will use all of his wiles to convince Madame Ranevsky to take him back to Paris with her.

...But we are women too: We may not have the means to achieve nobility; Our cleverness lies in crafting evil.

Euripedes Medea

Hate is a bottomless cup; I will pour and pour

Euripedes Medea

I know indeed what evil I intend to do, but stronger than all my afterthoughts is my fury, fury that brings upon mortals the greatest evils.

Euripedes Medea

My heart dissolves When I gaze into their [her son's] bright irises [...] Why damage them in trying to hurt their father, and only hurt myself twice over?

Euripedes Medea

Of all creatures that can feel and think, we women are the worst treated things alive.

Euripedes Medea

Stronger than lover's love is lover's hate. Incurable, in each, the wounds they make.

Euripedes Medea

The middle course is best in name And practice, the best policy by far. Excess brings no benefit to us, Only greater disasters on a house, When God is angry.

Euripedes Medea

You sound harmless, but in your heart I'm terrified you're plotting some evil. I trust you know even less than before. A passionate woman—or a man, for that matter— Is easier to guard against, than one who's clever, And holds her tongue.

Euripedes Medea

Because I have a little knowledge, some are filled with jealousy, others think me secretive, and crazy.

Euripedes Medea Here Medea says that she's discriminated against just because she's smart. This is undoubtedly true. Of course, she certainly doesn't help eliminate these prejudices when she uses her skills and cleverness to murder four people.

Hateful creature! O most detestable of women To the gods and me and all the human race! You could bring yourself to put to the sword The children of your womb. You have taken my sons and destroyed me.

Euripedes Medea Jason

No Greek woman Could ever have brought herself to do that. Yet I rejected them to marry you, a wife Who brought me enmity and death, A lioness, not human...

Euripedes Medea Jason

I'd rather they'd never been born to me Than have lived to see you destroy them this day.

Euripedes Medea To the end, Jason is completely unrepentant of his betrayal. Notice that he doesn't say he wishes he'd never taken another wife. Instead he says that he wishes his children had never been born.

We stand at the same point of pain. We too are slaves. Our children are crying, calling to us with tears, "Mother, I am all alone. To the dark ships now they drive me, And I cannot see you, Mother."

Euripedes The Trojan Women These lines, spoken in Euripides' The Trojan Women at the fall of Troy, appear in Part Four, Chapter II. True to the sophistication of the Greek playwrights, Euripides does not, in his consideration of the Trojan War, rest with a simple glorification of the Greek military victory. Rather, he depicts the useless devastation and catastrophe that war brings alongside its glory. We feel the sorrow of the innocent—a sorrow infinitely multiplied when we recall that the only cause of the war is a spat over the lovely Helen. Although Homer's Iliad does not address the sophisticated aftermath of the Trojan War in the way that The Trojan Women does, the Iliad does portray the conflict as more than just a simple struggle between good and evil. We see heroism, strength of character, wisdom, and honor on both the Greek and Trojan sides. The Iliad ends with the death of Hector, the brave Trojan, portraying his loss as a great tragedy equal to the tragic death of the Greek Achilles. Both Euripides' play and Homer's epic depict humans caught in a web of circumstances beyond their control, facing their difficult situations and making the only ethical decisions possible, even when the clear consequence is death. The quotation, then, captures this moral complexity of war with an insightful snapshot of the human condition beyond the glory and spoils of a proud battle.

Her suffering does not weight in the scale so much that I should let my enemies go untouched.

Euripides Hippolytus Aphrodite

No one may fly in the face of another's wish: we remain aloof and neutral. Else, I assure you, had I not feared Zeus, I never would have endured such shame as this—my best friend among men killed, and I could do nothing

Euripides Hippolytus Artemis

You shall not be unavenged, Cypris shall find the angry shafts she hurled against you for your piety and innocence shall cost her dear. I'll wait until she loves a mortal next time, and with this hand—with these unerring arrows I'll punish him.

Euripides Hippolytus Artemis' promise of revenge provides the chilling conclusion of play and suggests an ongoing struggle between the goddesses of love and chastity. Her declaration reminds the audience of the often-beleaguered relationships between the gods. The gods use mortals for the surrogates for their anger, unable to punish each other without upsetting the delicate balance on Mount Olympus. Euripides seems to be warning his audience to honor the gods but maintain a safe distance from their affairs.

No one may fly in the face of another's wish: we remain aloof and neutral. Else, I assure you, had I not feared Zeus, I never would have endured such shame as this—my best friend among men killed, and I could do nothing.

Euripides Hippolytus Artemis' role at the end of the play is problematic. She is merely a plot device, a deus ex machina that Euripides employs to resolve the play neatly. She reveals the truth to Theseus and Hippolytus, and here she explains why she could not prevent the death of her favorite. She claims that the rules of the gods forbade her from interfering. This seems like a bit of an evasion on Euripides' part: a cop-out ending to avoid having to deal with Artemis from the outset. The reason Artemis cites for her refusal to intercede is particularly problematic when we consider that numerous myths depict the gods intervening on behalf of their favorites.

I would hold in my hand a spear with a steel point.

Euripides Hippolytus At this point in the play, Phaedra is raving manically about her desire to escape to the mountains are partake in masculine pursuits such as hunting. Phaedra's wildness here reflects her inner struggle to overcome her desire for Hippolytus although she refuses to explain the cause of her mania. Her words, however, betray her passion. The spear is blatantly phallic, and her invocation of a weapon used in the hunt alludes to Hippolytus, whose favorite pastime is hunting. This expressed longing to hold in her hand the "spear" so clearly linked with Hippolytus is a graphic illustration of Phaedra's lust for her stepson.

Love distills desire upon the eyes, love brings bewitching grace into the heart of those he would destroy. I pray that love may never come to me with murderous intent [...]

Euripides Hippolytus Here the chorus provides commentary on the terrifying power of erotic love. Phaedra has just revealed her desire for Hippolytus, and the nurse and chorus have concluded that Phaedra's perverse passion is a curse from Aphrodite. The chorus' expressed fear of love and its potential for malevolence emphasizes Euripides' depiction of erotic love as a consuming and destructive force. The viciousness of love plays out in the rest of the drama as Aphrodite destroys the lives of Phaedra, Hippolytus, and, by extension, Theseus.

I free you from all guilt in this.

Euripides Hippolytus Hippolytus' absolution of his father's culpability is the final act that redeems his character. Though he has shown himself to be an honorable man, refusing to break his oath to the nurse and obeying his father's commands both with unpleasant consequences, Euripides does not show Hippolytus' obedience to the gods until the epilogue. Although we learn of Hippolytus' pious devotion to Artemis, his refusal to revere Aphrodite suggests a disregard for the authority of the gods. By obeying Artemis' command that he forgive his father, Hippolytus demonstrates his redemption.

That husband has the easiest life whose wife is a mere nothingness, a simple fool, uselessly sitting by the fireside. I hate a clever woman—God forbid that I should ever have a wife at home with more than woman's wits! Lust breeds mischief in the clever ones. The limits of their minds deny the stupid lecherous delights.

Euripides Hippolytus Hippolytus' description of the ideal woman appears in the midst of his misogynistic tirade, but Athenian audiences would have seen the flaws in his preference for a foolish wife. Women had to raise children as well as manage the household, which included the family stores and capital. A stupid wife would be incapable of adequately managing the household. Furthermore, husbands and wives had to work together for the benefit of the family: the man in outdoor or public pursuits and the wife in the home.

I'll hate you women [...]. Some say that I talk of this eternally, yes, but eternal, too, is woman's wickedness. Either let someone teach them to be chaste, or suffer me to trample on them forever.

Euripides Hippolytus Hippolytus' misogyny is a problem in the play, complicating interpretations of his character. One of the most confusing elements of his misogyny is the fact that his "patron" goddess Artemis is technically a woman. Her divinity and chastity exempt her from Hippolytus' hate. However, while her patronage of the traditionally male sport of hunting gives her certain masculine characteristics, she is also the goddess of virgins and childbirth. It seems, therefore, that Euripides challenges his audience to reconcile Hippolytus' misogynistic attitude with his devotion to Artemis.

The shame of her cruel fate has conquered. She has chosen good name rather than life: she is easing her heart of its bitter load of love.

Euripides Hippolytus Honor is a central theme of Euripides' tragedy, and this quotation illustrates the importance of honor over life. Worried that Hippolytus will make public her desire, Phaedra commits suicide rather than face dishonor. Fear of shame motivates characters throughout Hippolytus. Hippolytus chooses his father's pain and his own exile rather than proclaiming his innocence and thereby breaking his oath to the nurse. His honorable decision results in his death.

You are the veritable holy man! You walked with Gods in chastity immaculate! I'll not believe your boasts of God's companionship [...]

Euripides Hippolytus Theseus' words accuse Hippolytus of hypocrisy. Convinced of his son's guilt by Phaedra's suicide note, Theseus assumes that his son's protestations of chastity and love for the goddess Artemis are false. Unlike the impassioned speech of Phaedra, Theseus' accusations are mechanical as if this were a rhetorical exercise. Euripides gives no sense of Theseus' interiority or personal outrage at his son's betrayal. Theseus instead relies on Hippolytus' two defining characteristics, virginity and love of Artemis, which in light of Phaedra's rape prove his son false. This speech illustrates the problem Euripides faced after killing Phaedra halfway through the play. Although he must resolve Hippolytus' storyline, his interest in doing so is purely academic, and the writing loses its spark.

[Y]ou will tell me that this frantic folly is inborn in a woman's nature; man is different: but I know that young men are no more to be trusted than a woman which love disturbs the youthful blood in them.

Euripides Hippolytus Theseus's speech presents a more balanced view of women and men in relation to erotic desire. While Hippolytus accuses solely women of lecherous pursuits, Theseus argues that all humans are subject to the madness that love can cause. Embedded in this speech is the very heart of the play's tragedy and Aphrodite's cause for revenge. Hippolytus refuses to believe that he is subject to love, preferring to think that only women are thus afflicted. It is for this mistaken belief that Aphrodite seeks vengeance against Hippolytus and for which he dies.

Mark my words, Pentheus. Do not be so certain that power is what matters in the life of men; do not mistake for wisdom the fantasies of your sick mind.

Euripides The Bacchae

Wise men know constraint: our passions are controlled.

Euripides The Bacchae

You do not know the limits of your strength. You do not know what you do. You do know know who you are.

Euripides The Bacchae

And here I stand, a god incognito, disguised as man, beside the stream of Dirce and the waters of Ismenus.

Euripides The Bacchae At the beginning of the play, Dionysus announces his presence in Thebes, the city of his birth. However, he is disguised as a man, and his antagonist, Pentheus, has no idea that this mysterious stranger is in fact the god himself

: [B]ut your reprisals are too severe! : Yes, because I am a god, and you insulted me. : Gods should not resemble men in their anger! : Long ago Zeus my father approved these things.

Euripides The Bacchae Cadmus and Dionysus In the last scene of the play, old Cadmus is filled with grief at the death of his grandson, and he sums up the recent events and tries to make sense of them. Like Agaue he realizes that Pentheus was wrong in insulting and apposing Dionysus, but he also thinks that the god was too harsh. Cadmus repeats this last heart-felt sentiment twice in the last scene and is the only character in the play to directly reproach Dionysus. The structure of the last scene, the length of the lament and the intensity of the pity we feel for Agaue are such that Euripides himself seems to weigh onto Cadmus's side, even though the playwright's portrayal of Pentheus has been unfavorable throughout. Dionysus's answer to Cadmus's objection implies that no punishment can be too great for insulting a god. The chorus supports this sentiment, insisting throughout the play that the punishment for impiety must be death. However, Cadmus correctly recognizes that the god was not just punishing impiety but taking revenge for his wounded pride, a motive one would hope gods could overcome.

Talk sense to a fool and he calls you foolish.

Euripides The Bacchae Dionysus replies to his questioning by Pentheus. Pentheus has just asked him what form the god appeared to him in, and Dionysus replies that the god Dionysus can assume any form he pleases. Pentheus thinks the stranger is just trying to evade answering the question.

You have a glib tongue, as though in your right mind, Yet in your words there is no real sense Wretched man, how ignorant you are of what you are saying! Before you were out of your mind-but now you are raving mad

Euripides The Bacchae In the first of the many inversions of sanity and madness in the play, Tiresias tries in scene one to make Pentheus see the irrationality of his reasoning and the rational basis for Dionysus's madness. Inversions of the meanings and fluidity of 'madness' comprise a major theme in the play. Some of the questions raised by these inversions, and not necessarily answered by the play, are: What constitutes Pentheus's madness? What does it imply about the state of madness when its god is so controlled? Is religious ecstasy madness, or is rationalism madness? Can one induce madness or do the gods impose it? Must a society make room for a little collective madness or disintegration as in wine drinking and theater? Can a society indulge the benign forms of madness and exclude the more horrific forms?

We do not trifle with divinity. No, we are the heirs of customs and traditions hallowed by age and handed down to us by our fathers. No quibbling logic can topple them, whatever subtleties this clever age invents.

Euripides The Bacchae Teiresias, the old prophet, speaking to Cadmus. Teiresias knows that he must honor the god Dionysus because to ignore him would be to court disaster.

Like frankincense in its fragrance is the blaze of the torch he bears. Flames float out from his trailing wand As he runs, as he dances, Kindling the stragglers, Spurring with cries, And his long curls stream to the wind!

Euripides The Bacchae The Chorus sings in praise of Dionysus.

Against the unassailable he runs, with rage obsessed. Headlong he runs to death. For death the gods exact, curbing by that bit the mouths of men. They humble us with death that we remember what we are who are not god, but men. We run to death.Wherefore, I say, accept, accept: humility is wise; humility is blest. But what the world calls wise I do not want.

Euripides The Bacchae The Chorus sings, offering their reflections on the best way to live. They counsel that men should accept the presence and the power of the gods and be humble before that knowledge. The Chorus does not want the kind of wisdom of restraint and repression that is represented by Pentheus.

One woman struck her thyrsus against a rock and a fountain of cool water came bubbling up. Another drove her fennel in the ground, and where it struck the earth, at the touch of god, a spring of wine poured out. Those who wanted milk scratched at the soil With bare fingers and the while milk came welling up.

Euripides The Bacchae The Messenger reports on what he saw on the mountain. The female worshippers of Dionysus are able to produce miracles, bringing forth from the earth the life-giving fluids associated with the god.

whatever is god is strong; whatever long time has sanctioned, that is a law forever; the law tradition makes is the law of nature

Euripides The Bacchae These lines are sung by the Chorus. They argue that the worship of Dionysus, or of any god, is sanctioned by tradition, and something that is part of cultural tradition is the equivalent of a law of nature, and therefore must be followed.

What is wisdom? Or what fairer gift from the gods in men's eyes than to hold the hand of power over the head of one's enemies? And 'what is fair is always followed

Euripides The Bacchae This dense refrain from the third ode is an attempt by the chorus to find a moral reason to justify revenge. Its last segment is a proverb from Plato, which seems to mean that one pursues what is to one's advantage, which is what one finds beautiful or "fair." If there is no "fairer gift from the gods in men's eyes" than defeating one's enemies, then subduing one's enemies is a gift from god. The chorus twists the meaning of the word fair, using it to mean 'fine' in one place and 'advantageous' in another. Another reason this refrain is important is because it goes against what the chorus has been preaching so far. In the first ode, wisdom meant obeying the gods and the laws and living moderately. In the present circumstances, the chorus finds a special argument to deal with Pentheus and their desire to see him punished. Therefore, when they try to define wisdom here, they say that as complications arise and dilemma follows dilemma, why look further than one's personal advantage at present? This advantage lies in destroying their persecutor, an act which has been sanctioned conveniently by the gods. Wisdom, therefore, now demands the punishment of Pentheus.

Alas! Alas! Alas! Ilion is ablaze; the fire consumes the citadel, the roofs of our city, the tops of the walls!

Euripides The Trojan Women Hecuba

Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.

Hamlet At the end of Scene IV, a guard, Marcellus, says these famous words to Horatio. After Hamlet follows the ghost, Marcellus and Horatio know they have to follow as well, because Hamlet is acting so impulsively. Marcellus's words are remarking on how something evil and vile is afoot. This moment could be interpreted as foreshadowing of the impending deaths of most of the principle characters.

Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

Hamlet At this point of the play, Hamlet and Polonius are interacting onstage, but this quote is technically spoken by Polonius to the audience, in an aside. What Polonius is saying is that, even though Hamlet is talking crazy, it actually makes sense, or it has a "method." Polonius's assertion is ironic because he is right and wrong. Polonius believes Hamlet is acting "mad" because Hamlet's love of Ophelia has driven him to such. While Polonius is correct to think that there is reason behind Hamlet's actions, he is incorrect as to the cause. Hamlet is purposefully acting mad to disguise his true mission to avenge his father's murder.

My words fly up, my thoughts remain below. / Words without thoughts never to heaven go.

Hamlet Claudius aside about his prayer after Hamlet decides he can't kill Claudius because he is praying.

Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder"

Hamlet Ghost to Hamlet During the conversation when the Ghost is having Hamlet swear to avenge his murder.

The time is out of joint! O cursed spite that ever I was born to set it right."

Hamlet Hamlet after the Ghost leaves and he has sworn to avenge.

Frailty, thy name is woman!

Hamlet Hamlet is still speaking in his first of five soliloquies. The "woman" he specifically refers to is his mother. Hamlet felt she was weak, or not strong enough to mourn his father longer. Hamlet goes on further to say that not even an animal or beast, who has no reasoning skills, would have abandoned the mourning so quickly. All in all, this shows how angry and confused Hamlet is by his mother's remarriage.

I have of late,—but wherefore I know not,—lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire,—why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! how infinite in faculties! in form and moving, how express and admirable! in action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! the beauty of the world! the paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?

Hamlet Hamlet speaks to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Act II, scene ii (287-298), explaining the melancholy that has afflicted him since his father's death. Perhaps moved by the presence of his former university companions, Hamlet essentially engages in a rhetorical exercise, building up an elaborate and glorified picture of the earth and humanity before declaring it all merely a "quintessence of dust." He examines the earth, the air, and the sun, and rejects them as "a sterile promontory" and "a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors." He then describes human beings from several perspectives, each one adding to his glorification of them. Human beings' reason is noble, their faculties infinite, their forms and movements fast and admirable, their actions angelic, and their understanding godlike. But, to Hamlet, humankind is merely dust. This motif, an expression of his obsession with the physicality of death, recurs throughout the play, reaching its height in his speech over Yorick's skull. Finally, it is also telling that Hamlet makes humankind more impressive in "apprehension" (meaning understanding) than in "action." Hamlet himself is more prone to apprehension than to action, which is why he delays so long before seeking his revenge on Claudius.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Hamlet Hamlet's mother, Queen Gertrude, says this famous line while watching The Mousetrap. Gertrude is talking about the queen in the play. She feels that the play-queen seems insincere because she repeats so dramatically that she'll never remarry due to her undying love of her husband. The play-queen, in fact, does remarry. It is unclear whether Gertrude recognizes the parallel between herself and the play-queen; Hamlet certainly feels that way. This moment has an irony that is shown throughout the play.

Give thy thoughts no tongue, Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar. Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them unto thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy: For the apparel oft proclaims the man; And they in France of the best rank and station Are most select and generous chief in that. Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend; And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. This above all,—to thine own self be true; And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

Hamlet Here Polonius is giving his son, Laertes, sound advice before Laertes returns to Paris. Polonius is really saying loaning money to other people is dangerous. Often, people don't pay you back and you use a friend because of the failed transaction. On the flip side, it is distasteful to borrow money because it is impolite and usually indicates you are living outside of your means. Again, Polonius is doling out sage advice to his son, Laertes. Simply put, Polonius is telling his son "be yourself." In the context of the play, Polonius is also telling Laertes to be a gentleman and not "false to any man" (line 80). Overall, Polonius's advice helps reveals a theme of irony that threads throughout the play. Neither Polonius nor Laertes heeds the advice that Polonius gives in this scene, and both perish due to their lack of adherence.

O that this too too solid flesh would melt, Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew! Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! O fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely. That it should come to this! But two months dead!—nay, not so much, not two: So excellent a king; that was, to this, Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth! Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on: and yet, within a month,— Let me not think on't,—Frailty, thy name is woman!— A little month; or ere those shoes were old With which she followed my poor father's body Like Niobe, all tears;—why she, even she,— O God! a beast that wants discourse of reason, Would have mourn'd longer,—married with mine uncle, My father's brother; but no more like my father Than I to Hercules: within a month; Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, She married:— O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets! It is not, nor it cannot come to good; But break my heart,—for I must hold my tongue

Hamlet This quotation, Hamlet's first important soliloquy, occurs in Act I, scene ii (129-158). Hamlet speaks these lines after enduring the unpleasant scene at Claudius and Gertrude's court, then being asked by his mother and stepfather not to return to his studies at Wittenberg but to remain in Denmark, presumably against his wishes. Here, Hamlet thinks for the first time about suicide (desiring his flesh to "melt," and wishing that God had not made "self-slaughter" a sin), saying that the world is "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable." In other words, suicide seems like a desirable alternative to life in a painful world, but Hamlet feels that the option of suicide is closed to him because it is forbidden by religion. Hamlet then goes on to describe the causes of his pain, specifically his intense disgust at his mother's marriage to Claudius. He describes the haste of their marriage, noting that the shoes his mother wore to his father's funeral were not worn out before her marriage to Claudius. He compares Claudius to his father (his father was "so excellent a king" while Claudius is a bestial "satyr"). As he runs through his description of their marriage, he touches upon the important motifs of misogyny, crying, "Frailty, thy name is woman"; incest, commenting that his mother moved "[w]ith such dexterity to incestuous sheets"; and the ominous omen the marriage represents for Denmark, that "[i]t is not nor it cannot come to good." Each of these motifs recurs throughout the play.

To be, or not to be: that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, And by opposing end them?—To die,—to sleep,— No more; and by a sleep to say we end The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks That flesh is heir to,—'tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To die,—to sleep;— To sleep: perchance to dream:—ay, there's the rub; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life; For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of despis'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns That patient merit of the unworthy takes, When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? who would these fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death,— The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns,—puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, And lose the name of action.

Hamlet This soliloquy, probably the most famous speech in the English language, is spoken by Hamlet in Act III, scene i (58-90). His most logical and powerful examination of the theme of the moral legitimacy of suicide in an unbearably painful world, it touches on several of the other important themes of the play. Hamlet poses the problem of whether to commit suicide as a logical question: "To be, or not to be," that is, to live or not to live. He then weighs the moral ramifications of living and dying. Is it nobler to suffer life, "[t]he slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," passively or to actively seek to end one's suffering? He compares death to sleep and thinks of the end to suffering, pain, and uncertainty it might bring, "[t]he heartache, and the thousand natural shocks / That flesh is heir to." Based on this metaphor, he decides that suicide is a desirable course of action, "a consummation / Devoutly to be wished." But, as the religious word "devoutly" signifies, there is more to the question, namely, what will happen in the afterlife. Hamlet immediately realizes as much, and he reconfigures his metaphor of sleep to include the possibility of dreaming; he says that the dreams that may come in the sleep of death are daunting, that they "must give us pause." He then decides that the uncertainty of the afterlife, which is intimately related to the theme of the difficulty of attaining truth in a spiritually ambiguous world, is essentially what prevents all of humanity from committing suicide to end the pain of life. He outlines a long list of the miseries of experience, ranging from lovesickness to hard work to political oppression, and asks who would choose to bear those miseries if he could bring himself peace with a knife, "[w]hen he himself might his quietus make / With a bare bodkin?" He answers himself again, saying no one would choose to live, except that "the dread of something after death" makes people submit to the suffering of their lives rather than go to another state of existence which might be even more miserable. The dread of the afterlife, Hamlet concludes, leads to excessive moral sensitivity that makes action impossible: "conscience does make cowards of us all . . . thus the native hue of resolution / Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought." In this way, this speech connects many of the play's main themes, including the idea of suicide and death, the difficulty of knowing the truth in a spiritually ambiguous universe, and the connection between thought and action. In addition to its crucial thematic content, this speech is important for what it reveals about the quality of Hamlet's mind. His deeply passionate nature is complemented by a relentlessly logical intellect, which works furiously to find a solution to his misery. He has turned to religion and found it inadequate to help him either kill himself or resolve to kill Claudius. Here, he turns to a logical philosophical inquiry and finds it equally frustrating.

"Paris, you handsome, woman-mad deceiver, you shouldn't have been born, or killed unmarried. I wish you had-it would have been far better Than having you our shame, whom all suspect, Or having the long-haired Acheans laugh When you appear as champion-champion beauty- But have no strength, nor character, nor courage."

Hector, rebuking his brother for lack of honor Book 6

"No man, against my fate, sends me to Hades' And as for fate, I'm sure no man escapes it, Neither a good nor bad man, once he's born."

Hector, saying farewell to his wife Book 9

See to it that your handmaidens/ply their work also; but the men must see to the fighting.

Hektor consoling his wife, Andromache, before he goes to fight

I wish I had been the wife of a better man than this is/ one who knew modesty and all things of shame that men say.

Helen (wife of Alexandros) to Hektor

"Even one who is mortal will try to accomplish his purpose/for another, though he be a man and knows not such wisdom as we do."

Hera to Zeus; Zeus recognizes that she is for the Achaians, since she mourns over Patroklos' death & supports Achilles.

I shall say to you, who are here by Athena's great ordinance, that [the blood of Clytemnestra] was shed justly; and as prophet I shall not lie. I never yet said at my prophetic throne, not about man, not about woman, not about city, except what Zeus the Olympian Father might command. I tell you plainly: understand how strong this just plea is, and heed the Father's will; an oath is in no way stronger than Zeus."

Here Apollo makes a different type of argument for the justice of Orestes than the ones we have seen so far. Here, he says what Orestes did was just (a) because Apollo told him to do it, (b) because Apollo never lies, but only say what Zeus "might command," and (c) because whatever Zeus "might command" would be just.

It is quite improper that you approach this temple—go rather where justice is decapitation and gouged-out eyes, and slaughtered throats; where boys' downy virility is foully destroyed by castration; where extremities are amputated and stonings done; and where men impaled up into their spine moan long and piteously. Do you hear? This is the kind of festivity for which your fondness makes you abominable to the gods."

Here, once again, we see the conflict between different ideas of justice. By listing all these horrible tortures and punishments, Apollo implies that the Furies' idea of justice isn't justice at all.

I don't want to look at sickness and death. I must be free of everything that's ugly.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler

I shall be silent in the future.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler A further, final foreshadowing of Hedda's rash, self-destructive suicide. She shall, literally, be silent because she will be depriving herself of any opportunity to grow, change, and speak further.

Oh courage... oh yes! If only one had that... Then life might be livable, in spite of everything.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler Hedda expresses her desire to see courage within others and herself, a recurring motif in the drama. Ironically, of course, her suicide at the play's end shows the ultimate failure to live and act courageously (which would entail confronting and coping with the consequences of one's actions—see the previous quotation).

Do you think that is worth the trouble? Oh, if you could only understand how poor I am.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler Hedda isn't talking about money here. When she resents her new lifestyle with George, she doesn't just resent the lack of cash - she resents the bargaining power she used to have when she was a single woman.

Well, I shall have one thing at least to kill time with in the meanwhile. My pistols, George.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler In Ibsen's time, pistols would have been decidedly male objects. Hedda's proclivity for them remind us that she lacks typical feminine characteristics. It's also important that she refers to them as "General Gabler's pistols." She's almost channeling her father (and his masculinity) here.

Quite so. I have no objection to back ways. They may be piquant enough at times

Ibsen Hedda Gabler It seems that Brack, like Hedda, has a taste for the rebellious and improper and is also stimulated by secrets and scandals.

Oh, Hedda—what was the power in you that forced me to confess these things?

Ibsen Hedda Gabler Løvborg recognizes what indeed proves to be Hedda's greatest asset: her ability to make others reveal their secrets. She does the same with Thea and even with Brack, who admits some rather scandalous desires to Hedda in the second act.

Yes, I have. I want for once in my life to have power to mould a human destiny.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler Most of Hedda's actions in the play are driven by this very desire for power. Ibsen may be suggesting that the desire to grasp and wield such control is actually a mask for failure to recognize one's own vulnerability and subjection to social forces.

Her eyes are light blue, large, round, and somewhat prominent, with a startled, inquiring expression. Her hair is remarkably light, almost flaxen, and unusually abundant and wavy. She is a couple of years younger than HEDDA She wears a dark visiting dress, tasteful, but not quite in the latest fashion.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler Mrs. Elvsted embodies all the femininity that Hedda lacks; this is apparent from the moment we see her.

Everything I touch seems destined to turn into something mean and farcical.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler These words form one of Hedda's truer statements in the course of the play. Hedda, however, never explores the reasons that this dynamic should be so in her life. The context of the play as a whole suggests that it is due to her refusal to grapple with the consequences of her actions, her refusal to grow and become more than General Gabler's daughter.

People say such things. But they don't do them.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler This exchange emerges as an ironic foreshadowing of the play's falling action; Hedda does, of course, kill herself in the end.

Will you not try to—to do it beautifully?

Ibsen Hedda Gabler This is a testament to Hedda's dissatisfaction and malevolence - she jumps at the opportunity to machinate and control even at the cost of a man's life.

So I am in your power, Judge Brack. You have me at your beck and call, from this time forward.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler This is the reason for Hedda's suicide, rather than her pregnancy or Eilert's ignoble death as brack finally had power over her

It's a liberation [for me] to know that an act of spontaneous courage is yet possible in this world. An act that has something of unconditional beauty.

Ibsen Hedda Gabler This statement is Hedda's evaluation of Lövborg's actions when Hedda is led to believe that Lövborg has shot himself. It shows the audience Hedda's fundamental misidentification of impulsive destructiveness (as in her own suicide, shortly to transpire) with courage and control.

To judge this matter is greater than any mortal thinks—and I certainly have no right to decide between pleas about shed blood where angers are sharp, especially since you, Orestes, have been submissive to custom and come in supplication to my temple purified and harmless; and I respect you as giving the city likewise no cause for blame—but these persons have an allotted role not easy to dismiss, and if they do not get an outcome which brings them victory, poison from their proud spirit will later fall to the ground and be the land's intolerable, everlasting sickness. This is how the matter stands: both courses, for you to stay, Orestes, and for me to send you away, bring harsh pain if there is to be no wrath against me. But since this matter has descended suddenly upon us here, [I shall appoint] judges for murder-cases, with respect for oaths under an ordinance which I shall lay down for all time, [a line missing] with no transgression of their oath through unjust minds."

If Athena decides in favor of Orestes, she will anger the Furies; if she decides against him, she will anger Apollo.

Rage—Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son Achilles, murderous, doomed, that cost the Achaeans countless losses, hurling down to the House of Death so many sturdy souls, great fighters' souls, but made their bodies carrion, feasts for the dogs and birds, and the will of Zeus was moving toward its end. Begin, Muse, when the two first broke and clashed, Agamemnon lord of men and brilliant Achilles.

Indeed, Homer announces his subject in the very first word of the very first line: "Rage." He then locates the rage within "Peleus' son Achilles," delineates its consequences ("cost the Achaeans countless losses . . ."), links it to higher forces and agendas ("the will of Zeus"), and notes its origin (when "the two first broke and clashed, / Agamemnon . . . and brilliant Achilles").

And that it's always been my dearest desire To be the friend of one I so admire. I hope to see my love of merit requited, And you and me in friendship's bond united. I'm sure you won't refuse—if I may be frank— A friend of my devotedness—and rank.

Molière The Misanthrope Oronte making Alceste an offer of friendship

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact. One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

Midsummer Nights Dream Theseus' comments on the powers of the imagination.

How is it that the traits you most abhor Are bearable in this lady you adore? Are you so blind with love that you can't find them? Or do you contrive, in her case, not to mind them?

Molière The Misanthrope Philinte

I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about t'expound this dream. Methought I was—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had—but man is but a patched fool if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream. It shall be called 'Bottom's Dream', because it hath no bottom.

Midsummer Nights Dream Bottom makes this bombastic speech after he wakes up from his adventure with Titania; his human head restored, he believes that his experience as an ass-headed monster beloved by the beautiful fairy queen was merely a bizarre dream (IV.i.199-209). He remarks dramatically that his dream is beyond human comprehension; then, contradicting himself, he says that he will ask Quince to write a ballad about this dream. These lines are important partially because they offer humorous commentary on the theme of dreams throughout the play but also because they crystallize much of what is so lovable and amusing about Bottom. His overabundant self-confidence burbles out in his grandiose idea that although no one could possibly understand his dream, it is worthy of being immortalized in a poem. His tendency to make melodramatic rhetorical mistakes manifests itself plentifully, particularly in his comically mixed-up association of body parts and senses: he suggests that eyes can hear, ears see, hands taste, tongues think, and hearts speak.

O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school; And though she be but little, she is fierce.

Midsummer Nights Dream Helena describes Hermia as she pleads with the men to defend her from Hermia's jealous rage.

Through Athens I am thought as fair as she. But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so. He will not know what all but he do know. And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes, So I, admiring of his qualities. Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgement taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste. And therefore is love said to be a child Because in choice he is so oft beguiled.

Midsummer Nights Dream Helena utters these lines as she comments on the irrational nature of love. They are extremely important to the play's overall presentation of love as erratic, inexplicable, and exceptionally powerful (I.i.227-235). Distressed by the fact that her beloved Demetrius loves Hermia and not her, Helena says that though she is as beautiful as Hermia, Demetrius cannot see her beauty. Helena adds that she dotes on Demetrius (though not all of his qualities are admirable) in the same way that he dotes on Hermia. She believes that love has the power to transform "base and vile" qualities into "form and dignity"—that is, even ugliness and bad behavior can seem attractive to someone in love. This is the case, she argues, because "love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind"—love depends not on an objective assessment of appearance but rather on an individual perception of the beloved. These lines prefigure aspects of the play's examination of love, such as Titania's passion for the ass-headed Bottom, which epitomizes the transformation of the "base and vile" into "form and dignity."

Ay me, for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. . .

Midsummer Nights Dream Lysander speaks these lines to soothe Hermia when she despairs about the difficulties facing their love, specifically, that Egeus, her father, has forbidden them to marry and that Theseus has threatened her with death if she disobeys her father (I.i.132-134). Lysander tells Hermia that as long as there has been true love, there have been seemingly insurmountable difficulties to challenge it. He goes on to list a number of these difficulties, many of which later appear in the play: differences in birth or age ("misgrafted in respect of years") and difficulties caused by friends or "war, death, or sickness," which make love seem "swift as a shadow, short as any dream" (I.i.137, I.i.142-144). But, as Hermia comments, lovers must persevere, treating their difficulties as a price that must be paid for romantic bliss. As such, the above lines inaugurate the play's exploration of the theme of love's difficulties and presage what lies ahead for Lysander and Hermia: they will face great difficulties but will persevere and ultimately arrive at a happy ending.

Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it, Making it momentany as a sound, Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say "Behold!" The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion.

Midsummer Nights Dream Lysander speaks to Hermia of the fragility of love and happiness even between two who freely choose one another (a sympathy in choice). War, death and sickness attack it, making a momentary sound that is as swift as a shadow and short as a dream: brief as lightning in the blackest night, that in a flash discloses both heaven and earth, and before a man has time to say, "Behold!" the jaws of darkness devour it up: so quick bright things come to darkness and destruction

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Midsummer Nights Dream Puck makes this declaration in his amazement at the ludicrous behavior of the young Athenians (III.ii.115). This line is one of the most famous in A Midsummer Night's Dream for its pithy humor, but it is also thematically important: first, because it captures the exaggerated silliness of the lovers' behavior; second, because it marks the contrast between the human lovers, completely absorbed in their emotions, and the magical fairies, impish and never too serious.

If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumbered here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: If you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends.

Midsummer Nights Dream Puck speaks these lines in an address to the audience near the end of A Midsummer Night's Dream, extending the theme of dreams beyond the world of the play and putting the reality of the audience's experience into question (V.epilogue.1-8). As many of the characters (Bottom and Theseus among them) believe that the magical events of the play's action were merely a dream, Puck tells the crowd that if the play has offended them, they too should remember it simply as a dream—"That you have but slumbered here, / While these visions did appear." The speech offers a commentary on the dreamlike atmosphere of A Midsummer Night's Dream and casts the play as a magical dream in which the audience shares.

Betrayed and wronged in everything, I'll flee this bitter world where vice is king, And seek some spot unpeopled and apart Where I'll be free to have an honest heart.

Molière The Misanthrope

My chief talent is to be frank and sincere.

Molière The Misanthrope

My hate is general, I detest all men; Some because they are wicked and do evil, Others because they tolerate the wicked, Refusing them the active vigorous scorn Which vice should stimulate in virtuous minds.

Molière The Misanthrope

Since you embrace this indiscriminate vice, Your friendship comes at far too cheap a price; I spurn the easy tribute of a heart Which will not set the worthy man apart: I choose, Sir, to be chosen; and in fine, The friend of mankind is no friend of mine.

Molière The Misanthrope

True, true: each day my reason tells me so; But reason doesn't rule in love, you know.

Molière The Misanthrope

Yes, I could wish that you were wretchedly poor, Unloved, uncherished, utterly obscure; That fate had set you down upon the earth Without possessions, rank, or gentle birth; Then, by the offer of my heart, I might Repair the great injustice of your plight; I'd raise you from the dust, and proudly prove The purity and vastness of my love.

Molière The Misanthrope

If ever one of us can plainly prove That Célimène encourages his love, The other must abandon hope, and yield, And leave him in possession of the field.

Molière The Misanthrope Clitandre

The failings of human nature in this life give us opportunities for exercising our philosophy, which is the best use we can put our virtues to. If all men were righteous, all hearts true and frank and loyal, what purpose would most of our virtues serve?

Molière The Misanthrope Here, Philinte exposes the basic weakness of Alceste's approach to life, demonstrating that humankind would likely lose its vitality if Alceste's theories were applied to the whole of society. Philinte argues that flaw and failure give rise to character and invention. Veritably, if Célimène and the other victims of Alceste's scorn did not behave as they do, Alceste would have nothing to gripe about, which would rob him of a significant part of his personality. Philinte points out this irony to Alceste. The merit of Alceste's code of honor and ethics derives largely from the foul behavior of those whom he observes. Were they to share his values, society would be homogeneous, even boring. Philinte's comment also suggests that human differences make life worthwhile. Alceste's misanthropy might be directed against the very flaws that make human interaction interesting.

I'll confront her in no uncertain terms with her villainy, confound her utterly, and then bring to you a heart entirely freed from her perfidious charms.

Molière The Misanthrope In speaking to Éliante about Célimène's "villainy," Alceste suggests his belief that he can reason his way out of love. He thinks that by voicing his rightness to Célimène he might somehow be "entirely freed." Alceste also seeks revenge. In this light, we might find disturbing his idea that revenge might repair the situation. Of course, Alceste's diatribe denouncing Célimène's deception might also represent his method of quieting his own inner voice that tells him the truth of his love for her—that no matter how anguishing his attraction, he will not be able to extinguish it. Alceste's words to Élainte are, in part, a form of denial: Alceste hopes that by making his anger public he might somehow be held to his own moral standard, enabling him to escape the consequences of his emotions. Despite his efforts, Alceste is unable to free himself from Célimène after he chides her for her wrongdoing. He holds true to the first part of his claim, that he will—"confront her in no uncertain terms"—but he is unable to adhere to his vow to attain his heart's freedom.

There's a season for love and another for prudishness, and we may consciously choose the latter when the hey-day of our youth has passed—it may serve to conceal some of life's disappointments.

Molière The Misanthrope This passage from Act III, scene iv, captures Célimène's carefree—and often careless—spirit, as she speaks to Arsinoé. Célimène realizes that her youth is limited, so she therefore makes no apology for the freedom from propriety that youth affords her. Her words reveal a certain understanding of the cycle of life. She shows keen insight in blaming Arsinoé's age, rather than a character flaw, for the older woman's behavior. Célimène's words also touch upon a deeper theme in the play—that of masking one's true self. She mentions that age might be used to "conceal," to distance oneself from the pains and prejudices of life. Age is only one of a variety of concealments applied in The Misanthrope. Even Célimène appears to be hiding her true feelings from Alceste. We cannot discern whether or not she really loves him, but it is likely that she cares for him more than her words might suggest. In this way, Célimène's mask is her language.

You shall observe me push my weakness to its furthest limit and show how wrong it is to call any of us wise and demonstrate that there's some touch of human frailty in every one of us.

Molière The Misanthrope Though Alceste still intends to forswear the company of others, by the time this quotation appears (in Act V, scene iv) he begins to show signs of change. His earlier pretentiousness appears to have diminished as he admits, indirectly, to his own "frailty." At last, Alceste caves to his own emotion. However, he does not fully come to terms with his weakness. He reluctantly confesses his own shortcomings; he does not embrace them. Alceste has not yet learned that one can be both "wise" and at fault. He is a man of extremes. By his logic, if he is not "wise" then he must be "frail." With the play's ending—which comes shortly after this quotation—Molière demonstrates just how tenuous Alceste's transformation is. When Célimène rejects Alceste's proposal that she leave society behind and come with him, he immediately regresses. Nonetheless, the hint of change remains, leaving us with the hope that Alceste might one day be both accepted and accepting.

I expect you to be sincere and as an honourable man never to utter a single word that you don't really mean.

Molière The Misanthrope Uttered by Alceste in the opening scene of The Misanthrope, this line quickly establishes Alceste's extreme value system. His expectation that Philinte never say a single dishonest word is somewhat of a ridiculous request; we immediately recognize that Alceste will be impossible to please. Alceste's comment seems especially extreme juxtaposed with Philinte's rational defense of the practice of occasionally bending the truth. With this quotation, then, Molière establishes the central conflict of the play—Alceste's unwillingness to forgive the faults of his fellow man. Molière also defines Alceste's supposition that he somehow carries higher status than his acquaintances. Alceste expects Philinte to behave a certain way—implying that Philinte has an obligation to do so.

Her heart's a stranger to its own emotion. Sometimes it thinks it loves, when no love's there; At other times it loves quite unaware.

Molière The Misanthrope Éliante

Love, as a rule, affects men otherwise, And lovers rarely love to criticize. They see their lady as a charming blur, And find all things commendable in her. If she has any blemish, fault, or shame, They will redeem it by a pleasing name.

Molière The Misanthrope Éliante

...never equal with the rest is the portion of honour/of the sceptred king to whome Zeus gives magnificence.

Nestor (Achaian), with kind intention, speaking to Achileus

'"Give me your armor to put on your shoulders; The Trojans might suppose I was you, Hold back, and give the Acheans' sons a breather, For breathing spells in war are very few. Then, with a shout, fresh men might easily Turn tired men from the ships toward the city." So, like a fool he begged; for it would be An evil death and doom for himself he asked.'

Patroclus, asking Achilles for permission to join the fighting Book 18

All afflicts and injures me, and conspires to my injury

Racine Phaedra

Crime, like virtue, has its degrees; And timid innocence was never known To blossom suddenly into extreme license.

Racine Phaedra

I am the only object he can't stand, And I should undertake the task of defending him?

Racine Phaedra

In my eyes he is a frightful monster!

Racine Phaedra

It is no longer a passion hidden in my heart: It is Venus herself fastened to her prey.

Racine Phaedra

They will still love one another," she cries. "Even now they are defying the rage of a woman mad with love, swearing a thousand times they will never be parted.

Racine Phaedra

Innocence has nothing to dread.

Racine Phaedra Hippolytus

The day is not purer than the depths of my heart.

Racine Phaedra Hippolytus

A criminal love was the cause of his whole hatred.

Racine Phaedra Oenone

I urge no more; nay, wert thou willing still, I would not welcome such a fellowship. Go thine own way; myself will bury him. How sweet to die in such employ, to rest,-- Sister and brother linked in love's embrace-- A sinless sinner, banned awhile on earth, But by the dead commended; and with them I shall abide for ever. As for thee, Scorn, if thou wilt, the eternal laws of Heaven.

Sophocles Antigone Antigone's enthusiastic determination to risk her life in order to bury her brother is suicidal in nature.

My own flesh and blood—dear sister, dear Ismene, how many griefs our father Oedipus handed down! Do you know one, I ask you, one grief that Zeus will not perfect for the two of us while we still live and breathe? There's nothing, no pain—our lives are pain—no private shame, no public disgrace, nothing I haven't seen in your grief and mine

Sophocles Antigone Antigone's first words in Antigone, "My own flesh and blood," vividly emphasize the play's concern with familial relationships. Antigone is a play about the legacy of incest and about a sister's love for her brother. Flesh and blood have been destined to couple unnaturally—in sex, violence, or both—since Oedipus's rash and unwitting slaying of his father. Antigone says that griefs are "handed down" in Oedipus's family, implicitly comparing grief to a family heirloom. In her first speech, Antigone seems a dangerous woman, well on her way to going over the edge. She knows she has nothing to lose, telling Ismene, "Do you know one, I ask you, one grief / that Zeus will not perfect for the two of us / while we still live and breathe?" Before we even have time to imagine what the next grief might be, Antigone reveals it: Creon will not allow her brother Polynices to be buried. Ismene, on the other hand, like the audience, is one step behind. From the outset, Antigone is the only one who sees what is really going on, the only one willing to speak up and point out the truth.

Well, let her know the stubbornest of wills Are soonest bended, as the hardest iron, O'er-heated in the fire to brittleness, Flies soonest into fragments, shivered through. A snaffle curbs the fieriest steed, and he Who in subjection lives must needs be meek. But this proud girl, in insolence well-schooled, First overstepped the established law, and then-- A second and worse act of insolence-- She boasts and glories in her wickedness. Now if she thus can flout authority Unpunished, I am woman, she the man. But though she be my sister's child or nearer Of kin than all who worship at my hearth, Nor she nor yet her sister shall escape The utmost penalty, for both I hold, As arch-conspirators, of equal guilt. Bring forth the older; even now I saw her Within the palace, frenzied and distraught. The workings of the mind discover oft Dark deeds in darkness schemed, before the act. More hateful still the miscreant who seeks When caught, to make a virtue of a crime

Sophocles Antigone Blind to his own stubbornness, Creon attacks and punishes Antigone for denying his authority and for her unwillingness to submit to his will

Bethink thee, sister, of our father's fate, Abhorred, dishonored, self-convinced of sin, Blinded, himself his executioner. Think of his mother-wife (ill sorted names) Done by a noose herself had twined to death And last, our hapless brethren in one day, Both in a mutual destiny involved, Self-slaughtered, both the slayer and the slain. Bethink thee, sister, we are left alone; Shall we not perish wretchedest of all, If in defiance of the law we cross A monarch's will?--weak women, think of that, Not framed by nature to contend with men. Remember this too that the stronger rules; We must obey his orders, these or worse. Therefore I plead compulsion and entreat The dead to pardon. I perforce obey The powers that be. 'Tis foolishness, I ween, To overstep in aught the golden mean.

Sophocles Antigone Ismene fears betraying the laws of state, whereas her sister is more concerned with divine law.

Anarchy—show me a greater crime in all the earth! She, she destroys cities, rips up houses, breaks the ranks of spearmen into headlong rout. But the ones who last it out, the great mass of them owe their lives to discipline. Therefore we must defend the men who live by law, never let some woman triumph over us. Better to fall from power, if fall we must, at the hands of a man—never be rated inferior to a woman, never.

Sophocles Antigone This is one of Creon's speeches to the Chorus. The word "anarchy" (in Greek, anarchia) literally means "without a leader." The Greek word is feminine and can be represented by a feminine pronoun, which is why Creon, speaking of anarchy, says, "She, she destroys cities, rips up houses. . . ." Because Creon uses the feminine pronoun, he sounds as if he might be talking about Antigone, and maintaining order is certainly connected, in his mind, with keeping women in their place. Creon sees anarchy as the inevitable consequence when disobedience of the law is left unpunished. For Creon, the law, on whatever scale, must be absolute. His insistence on the gender of the city's ruler ("the man") is significant, since masculine political authority is opposed to uncontrolled feminine disobedience. Creon sees this feminine disobedience as something that upsets the order of civilization on every possible level—the political ("destroys cities"), the domestic ("rips up houses"), and the military ("breaks the ranks of spearmen"). The only way to fight this disorder is through discipline; therefore, says Creon, "we must defend the men who live by law, [we must] never let some woman triumph over us"

Stop, my children, weep no more. Here where the dark forces store up kindness both for living and the dead, there is no room for grieving here—it might bring down the anger of the gods.

Sophocles Oedipus at Colonus Theseus's short speech from the end of Oedipus at Colonus argues that grieving might not be a good thing—a sentiment unusual in the Theban plays. Sophocles' audience would have seen, before this speech, the most extreme consequences of excessive grief: Antigone's death, Haemon's death, Eurydice's death, Jocasta's death, Oedipus's blinding, Oedipus's self-exile. The rash actions of the grief-stricken possess both a horror and a sense of inevitability or rightness. Jocasta kills herself because she cannot go on living as both wife and mother to her son; Oedipus blinds himself in order to punish himself for his blindness to his identity; Eurydice can no longer live as the wife of the man who killed her children. Theseus's speech calls attention to the fact that the violence that arises from this grieving only leads to the perpetuation of violence.

Fear? What should a man fear? It's all chance, chance rules our lives. Not a man on earth can see a day ahead, groping through the dark. Better to live at random, best we can. And as for this marriage with your mother—have no fear. Many a man before you, in his dreams, has shared his mother's bed. Take such things for shadows, nothing at all— Live, Oedipus, as if there's no tomorrow!

Sophocles Oedipus the Tyrant The audience, familiar with the Oedipus story, almost does not want to listen to these self-assured lines, spoken by Jocasta, wherein she treats incest with a startling lightness that will come back to haunt her. What makes these lines tragic is that Jocasta has no reason to know that what she says is foolish, ironic, or, simply, wrong. The audience's sense of the work of "fate" in this play has almost entirely to do with the fact that the Oedipus story was an ancient myth even in fifth-century B.C. Athens. The audience's position is thus most like that of Tiresias—full of the knowledge that continues to bring it, and others, pain. At the same time, it is important to note that at least part of the irony of the passage does depend on the play, and the audience, faulting Jocasta for her blindness. Her claim that "chance rules our lives" and that Oedipus should live "as if there's no tomorrow" seems to fly in the face of the beliefs of more or less everyone in the play, including Jocasta herself. Oedipus would not have sent Creon to the oracle if he believed events were determined randomly. Nor would he have fled Corinth after hearing the prophecy of the oracle that he would kill his father and sleep with his mother; nor would Jocasta have bound her baby's ankles and abandoned him in the mountains. Again and again this play, and the other Theban plays, returns to the fact that prophecies do come true and that the words of the gods must be obeyed. What we see in Jocasta is a willingness to believe oracles only as it suits her: the oracle prophesied that her son would kill Laius and so she abandoned her son in the mountains; when Laius was not, as she thinks, killed by his son, she claims to find the words of the oracle worthless. Now she sees Oedipus heading for some potentially horrible revelation and seeks to curb his fear by claiming that everything a person does is random.

People of Thebes, my countrymen, look on Oedipus. He solved the famous riddle with his brilliance, he rose to power, a man beyond all power. Who could behold his greatness without envy? Now what a black sea of terror has overwhelmed him. Now as we keep our watch and wait the final day, count no man happy till he dies, free of pain at last.

Sophocles Oedipus the Tyrant These words, spoken by the Chorus, form the conclusion of Oedipus the King. That Oedipus "solved the famous riddle [of the Sphinx] with his brilliance" is an indisputable fact, as is the claim that he "rose to power," to an enviable greatness. In underscoring these facts, the Chorus seems to suggest a causal link between Oedipus's rise and his fall—that is, Oedipus fell because he rose too high, because in his pride he inspired others to "envy." But the causal relationship is never actually established, and ultimately all the Chorus demonstrates is a progression of time: "he rose to power, a man beyond all power. / . . . / Now what a black sea of terror has overwhelmed him." These lines have a ring of hollow and terrifying truth to them, because the comfort an audience expects in a moral is absent (in essence, they say "Oedipus fell for this reason; now you know how not to fall").

I mean one thinks of it like being alive in a box, one keeps forgetting to take into account the fact that one is dead...which should make all the difference...shouldn't it? I mean you'd never know you were in a box, would you? It would be just like being asleep in a box...

Stoppard R and G Are Dead

Look on every exit as being an entrance somewhere else.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead

No, no, no...Death is...not. Death isn't. You take my meaning. Death is the ultimate negative. Not being. You can't not-be on a boat.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead

Pirates could happen to anyone.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead

Whatever became of the moment when one first knew about death? There must have been one, a moment, in childhood when it first occurred to you that you don't go on for ever. It must have been shattering—stamped into one's memory. And yet I can't remember it. It never occurred to me at all. What does one make of that? We must be born with an intuition of mortality. Before we know the words for it, before we know that there are words, out we come, bloodied and squalling with the knowledge that for all the compasses in the world, there's only one direction, and time is its only measure.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead

Give us this day our daily round...

Stoppard R and G Are Dead Guil

I'd prefer art to mirror life, if it's all the same to you.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead Guil

Everything has to be taken on trust; truth is only that which is taken to be true. It's the currency of living. There may be nothing behind it, but it doesn't make any difference so long as it is honoured.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead In response to Guildenstern's lamentation on the fact that nobody explains the truth, the Player responds with this rather philosophical claim. One of the more serious comments made by the Player, the quote cements the Player's ability to recognize certain truths, and observations, that continuously elude Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are often ignorant of the nature of events around them, settling with merely complaining about their victimization. The Player, in contrast, manages to understand the chaotic complexity of world. Truth is a factor that cannot exist in such a world due to the sheer ambiguity of it; by itself, truth is subject to the biases and manipulations of any individual. Rather, as the Player stipulates, it is trust that lends truth legitimacy, and is the far more significant aspect. This trust is something that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern share, and their affectionate relationship validates the point that the Player makes in the quote. Stoppard employs the Player's practical and insightful mindset to highlight the blurred reality, or truth, that individuals inevitably come into contact with within a incomprehensible world.

We do things on stage that are supposed to happen off.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead Player

Audiences know what to expect, and that is all they are prepared to believe in.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead The Player makes this claim at the conclusion of the mimed rehearsal in Act II. Guildenstern angrily says that the Tragedians' silent performance of the death scenes is unbelievable and out of keeping with the true nature of death, but the Player's response suggests a different view about our relationship to both the theater and to our own lives. On the theatrical level, the Player's remark suggests that when we applaud some aspect of a play as realistic, what we are actually saying is that it conforms to our expectations of the way the play should go. In this scene in particular, the Player's point is that audiences expect certain characters to die and expect death to look a certain way onstage, and audiences will only believe that deaths have been realistically represented if they happen the way audiences anticipate. Our desire to see the plots of literary works unfold in specific ways determines whether we will believe those pieces of literature to be realistic. The Player's statement is also a powerful claim about the way we view the world in general, which is itself a larger and more dangerous version of the theater. Stoppard expects his audience to be familiar with an idea from another work by Shakespeare: As You Like It, in which a character notes, "All the world's a stage." Seen in this light, the Player's remark points to our role as spectators of the dramas of life, not just the dramas of the theater. We have beliefs and expectations about the world around us, the Player says, and when we are confronted with something that does not conform to those beliefs, we question or even reject it. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern go through this experience most strikingly in Act III, when they both refuse to believe that they are actually on their way to see the king of England, since they are unable to form any expectations about what that would be like. Similarly, they cannot believe in their own mortality even at the moment of their impending deaths since dying is so far out of range of their expectations. The things we believe are true in life, in other words, are simply the things we expect to be true.

Life is a gamble, at terrible odds—if it was a bet you wouldn't take it.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead The Player makes this observation in Act III as he tells Rosencrantz and Guildenstern that the Tragedians had to leave Elsinore suddenly and without payment after unexpectedly angering Claudius with their play. The Player's comment is more than a pained response to being caught off guard by Claudius's outrage, however. The quotation is a bleak expression of a very difficult and frightening truth—namely, that the world is a random and chaotic place in which our chances of success are extremely slim. We may wish the world to be orderly and make sense or for only good people to be rewarded and only bad people to be punished, but the world does not conform to our desires, and rewards and punishments are entirely random. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are not horrible people and do not deserve to be executed, but that is the fate that befalls them. They are entirely normal men who do nothing that is particularly bad or particularly good, but they suffer anyway, because the universe does not discriminate between good people and bad. The apparent pointlessness of the universe, the Player's remark suggests, would make us choose to be elsewhere if only we were not already here.

Be happy—if you're not even happy what's so good about surviving? We'll be all right. I suppose we just go on.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead This discussion takes place in Act III immediately after Rosencrantz and Guildenstern have discovered that Hamlet is no longer onboard the boat. Just as suddenly as they were called to their mission, their journey has now become pointless, and Guildenstern has been thrown into despair. His remark reflects the frustration and despondency that the play attributes to the realization that life will never make sense and that nothing external will be able to give satisfying purpose and meaning to our lives. The indifference of the universe to our sufferings, questions, and desires may lead one to believe, as Guildenstern does, that life is nothing more than mechanical forces and that we are being driven toward death by a natural "momentum" that we can neither stop nor understand. This is the deepest and darkest state of existential crisis, the lowest point one can reach when thinking seriously about the meaningless randomness of life. Rosencrantz's reply, however, suggests a way out of the pit of despair into which Guildenstern has fallen, although whether the play as a whole supports his approach is debatable. When Guildenstern looks at the indifference and arbitrariness of the world, he feels only that life has no meaning. But the fact that life as a whole does not have any obvious meaning does not mean that it is impossible for any individual life to have meaning, and Rosencrantz's response is an attempt to find meaning and purpose on precisely this individual level. When faced with the chaos of life, Rosencrantz decides that his personal purpose will be to seek pleasure for himself. That is not to say that Rosencrantz is advocating hedonism and fulfilling every desire however and whenever we want. Rather, Rosencrantz says that even though the universe does not care about us, we should care about ourselves and strive to find happiness and personal fulfillment. If we find things that give our lives meaning, we may not be overjoyed, but we will at least be "all right." Although this may sound plausible, the fact that Rosencrantz lapses into confused dread at the moment of impending death may suggest that even his attitude cannot save us from the harsh realities of life in a pointless universe.

Words, words. They're all we have to go on.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead This exchange, which occurs in Act I just after Claudius and Gertrude inform Rosencrantz and Guildenstern of their mission, highlights both the pleasures and pitfalls of language. On the positive side, the fact that language is extremely complex and always changing means that it can be a great source of delight. Characters spend a great deal of time in the drama playing with words, creating clever linguistic jokes and engaging in a lot of witty banter. The complexity and instability of language, however, has negative consequences as well, which this quotation also points to. Since language is our primary way of understanding the world—it is "all we have to go on," as Guildenstern says—the fact that it is inherently ambiguous means that we often have trouble expressing ourselves and even making sense of our lives. Throughout the play, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern find themselves unable to say what they want to, and their confusion mounts as they try to determine the true meaning of what other characters say to them. This frustrating feature of language contrasts sharply with its enjoyable aspects, as the play emphasizes that language, like the two-sided coin Rosencrantz and Guildenstern keep flipping, is a combination of opposites.

Uncertainty is the normal state. You're nobody special.

Stoppard R and G Are Dead This remark, which the Player utters in Act II after reuniting with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern at Elsinore, emphasizes one of the major themes of the play—the incomprehensibility of the world. Guildenstern complains to the Player that he and Rosencrantz have no idea what is happening at Elsinore and have no clue what they should be doing there, and he hopes to relinquish to the Player the burden of having to make decisions. The Player's cutting response in the quotation criticizes Guildenstern for believing that he is in a uniquely difficult situation. Instead, the Player suggests, doubt is a characteristic feature of human life, and it is "normal" to not understand everything that is happening around us. The play dramatizes the Player's claim that confusion is a normal experience by depicting Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as two fairly ordinary men who are asked to perform a seemingly simple task—come talk to their childhood friend and try to cheer him up—but get overwhelmed by a disorienting string of strange occurrences and perplexing remarks. Even the most mundane situations, it seems, are fraught with complication and ambiguity.

There's a logic at work-it's all done for you, don't worry. Enjoy it. Relax. To be taken in hand and led, like being child again, even without the innocence, a child-it's like being given a prize, an extra slice of childhood when you least expect it, as a prize for being good, or compensation for never having had one...

Stoppard R and G Are Dead This statement of reassurance by Guildenstern is meant to soothe Rosencrantz's agitation and distress at the expectation for the duo to unconditionally obey King Claudius. The lengthy and complex structure of the sentence only emphasizes one point: the sweetness of "being a child again." This reiteration is a testament to Guildenstern's ignorance at the nature of events around him; he attempts to offset this ignorance by identifying and convincing himself of the positive aspects in being "taken in hand and led." Like the children mentioned in the quote, Guildenstern shares the same naivete and ignorance characteristic of childhood. He places the path of future events into the hands of higher powers, preaching to Rosencrantz the convenience of such an arrangement. Passivity, then, becomes synonymous with both characters; they willingly forfeit control over their own lives. At this point, both characters truly settle into their status as minor characters, even within their own play. Both Rosencrantz and Guildenstern become subject to the manipulating machinations of other characters, becoming entangled in a web of conflict they have little to do with.

With first place among the gods in this prayer I give special honour to Earth, the first prophet; and after her, to Themis, for she was the second to sit at her mother's oracle here, as one story has it. The third to have this office assigned—it was at Themis' wish and with no violence to anyone—was another of Earth's daughters by Titan, Phoebe. She it was who gave the office as a birthday gift to Phoebus, who has his name from hers. He left Delos with its lake and spine of rock; he beached on Pallas' shore where the ships put in and came to this land and his seat at Parnassus. The sons of Hephaestus escorted him here with great reverence and made a road for him, taming an untamed land. After his arrival the people magnify him in honour, as does Delphos, this land's lord and helmsman. Zeus inspired his mind with skill, setting him as the fourth prophet on the throne here; so Loxias is his father Zeus' spokesman

These are the opening words of The Eumenides. The Prophetess of Apollo gives a detailed account of how the oracle at Delphi passed through the hands of various gods until it finally fell to Apollo.

You sure is country. I didn't know you was this country.

Wilson The Piano Lesson After Boy Willie counters Grace's complaints about sleeping on the sofa with a story about his grandfather taking women on the backs of horses, Grace is amazed by how "country" Boy Willie is. This serves to heighten the difference between Boy Willie and Lymon at this point in the play. Boy Willie belongs down south, farming, and leading a country life. Lymon is a man for the north, happy to mix into integrated society.

All this thieving and killing and thieving and killing. And what it ever lead to? More killing and more thieving.

Wilson The Piano Lesson Berniece is frustrated because of the pattern of violence and crime that she sees in the men of her family, and more broadly of the African American community. Through Berniece's mouth, we learn that the role of women in this community is to support the men and pick up the pieces of their families after they are driven to desperation and violence by the hardships forced upon them by white society.

Gin my cotton Sell my seed Buy my baby Everything she need

Wilson The Piano Lesson For Wilson, music functions as an allegory for the lesson on legacy. The play attempts to dramatize its uses. Appropriately, the play begins with an epigraph from Mississippi blues musician Skip James that exemplifies how musical traditions might encode a family's history. On the manifest level, the lyrics refer to Boy Willie's entrepreneurial dreams. Indeed, he recites similar lines to Doaker and Lymon when describing his plans to start a farm. By dint of a double entendre, however, these lines also become a cryptogram—or piece of writing in secret characters—for a traumatic past. The two middle lines ("Sell my seed/ Buy my baby") evoke the memory of slavery and the traffic in human flesh, the trauma at the heart of the piano's history. Thus, music encodes the legacy of the familial suffering.

Now what I done learned after 27 years of railroading is this... if the train stays on the track... it's going to get where it's going. It might not be where you going. If it ain't, then all you got to do is sit and wait cause the train's coming back to get you. The train don't never stop.

Wilson The Piano Lesson In this speech, Doaker introduces his world view, inspired by the railroad. The train here is a metaphor for the path of modernity - white modernity - and of history. The black man can't change the path of the train. He can only ride along to wherever it's going. And he has no choice in the matter either, for there will always be another train coming along behind the last.

Hey Berniece if you and Maretha don't keep playing on that piano ain't no telling me and Sutter both liable to be back. (He exits.)

Wilson The Piano Lesson The struggle with Sutter having ended, Willie leaves the women of the Charles household with the charge quoted above. He states that if they do not continue playing the piano, he and Sutter are liable to return. Thus, the maternal line—already established in the play as the bearer of grief and mourning—is left with the responsibility of channeling the dead and maintaining the family's connection with its origins. These elliptical remarks also establish the allegorical nature of the struggle that has just come to pass between Willie and Sutter, a struggle across generations and across the grave over the family's legacy, the piano, and the avenging of past crimes. Willie functions here as almost a sort of revenant, embodying the ghosts of the past, and engaging in a battle between the Charles and the Sutters, the white and the black that spans time.

That's when I discovered the power of death. See, a n igger that ain't afraid to die is the worse kind of n igger for the whiteman. He can't hold that power over you. That's what I learned when I killed the cat. I got the power of death too. I can command him. I can call him up. The white man don't like to see that. He don't like for you to stand up and look him square in the eye and say, "I got it too." Then he got to deal with you square up.

Wilson The Piano Lesson The young Boy Willie's discovers the "power of death" when he finds himself unable to resurrect his dog through prayer and, as a result, goes out and kills a cat. This power is not only the capacity to kill. It also requires the risk of one's life. Willie believes that this power—again, the power to risk one's life and kill another—is the only one left to a black man denied property to build something for himself. More importantly, it makes the black man the white man's rival. As Willie declares: "See, a n igger that ain't afraid to die is the worse kind of n igger for the white man." With the power of death, he can look the white man "square in the eye and say, 'I got it too.' Then [the white man] got to deal with you square up." As he notes later, Willie is all too aware of the fear the sound of a "n igger's heart beating" can inspire. By discovering the power of death, Willie undermines the distinction master/slave that haunts the difference between white and black, a distinction in large part founded on the master's capacity to kill his servant. The power of death makes both players masters engaged in a struggle to the death, masters who are willing to murder and die in a battle for recognition. Also note the trope of the eye and being dealt with "square up."

If Berniece don't want to sell that piano... I'm gonna cut it in half and go on and sell my half.

Wilson The Piano Lesson This challenging statement by Boy Willie at the end of the first act raises the stakes for the conflict between Boy Willie and Berniece. It also evokes the biblical parallel of the Solomonic compromise, foreshadowing that Boy Willie will ultimately be deemed an unworthy inheritor of the piano and its legacy. By threatening to cut the piano in half, Boy Willie makes it clear that he has no interest in the piano's symbolic value.

When Miss Ophelia seen it (...) she got excited. Now she had her piano and her ******s too Boy Charles used to talk about that piano all the time. He never could get it off his mind. Two or three months go by and he be talking about it again. He be talking about taking it out of Sutter's house. Say it was the story of our whole family and as long as Sutter had it he had us. Say we was still in slavery.

Wilson The Piano Lesson This excerpt from Doaker's account of the piano's history reveals the various meanings it takes on for the Sutters and Charles. Initially bought with slaves, the piano first exemplifies the interchangeability of person and object under the system of slavery. This traffic in human flesh reaffirms a white kinship network at the expense of black ones—the piano is an anniversary present. Carved by Willie Boy to placate Miss Ophelia, the piano's wooden figures indicate the interchangeable nature of slave and ornament for the master: as Doaker notes, "Now she had her piano and her ******s too." The slave is the master's gift and accessory. Under Willie Boy's hands, however, the piano also becomes the physical record of the family's history. Thus Boy Charles understands the figures not as ornament but as narrative. As Doaker recalls: "Say it was the story of our whole family and as long as Sutter had it he had us. Say we was still in slavery." Owning the family's history becomes tantamount to owning its members. Sutter's ownership of the family's story keeps the Charles' family in bondage.

Now, who am I? Am I me? Or am I the piano player? Sometimes it seem like the only thing to do is shoot the piano player cause he the cause of all the trouble I'm having.

Wilson The Piano Lesson This is the culmination of the philosophical crisis created by Wining Boy's years on the road as a traveling pianist. He could only enjoy that life for so long, until he began to notice that he was nothing but a piano player. He couldn't do anything else, wasn't seen as anything else. He was chained to that piano, and he could only free his true self by shooting the pianist.

That's the difference between the colored man and the white man. The colored man can't fix nothing with the law

Wilson The Piano Lesson This is the moral of Wining Boy's parable about the fence around berries in a yard. He is illustrating the deeply ingrained differences between society's treatment of the races. The law may be technically neutral (although at this point in time, in the 1930s, the law still had a long ways to go before even being almost-neutral), but the key is that even the simplest law can be manipulated and controlled by a white man. This power is not available to people of color.

She can go on back to bed

Wilson The Piano Lesson This is the play's call to action - both of Boy Willie, and of Wilson himself. Boy Willie arrives at dawn and makes a powerful ruckus, rousing everyone from their easy complacent sleep and their easy complacent lives. He knows the storm he is bringing, but offers that everyone can go "back to bed" when he's done shaking things up a bit. Wilson too is insisting that the audience wake up and listen to him for two hours, before going back to bed themselves.

When my mama died I shut the top on that piano and I ain't never opened it since. I was only playing it for her. When my daddy died seem like all her life went into that piano. She used to have my playing on it (...) had Miss Eula come in and teach me (...) say when I played it she could hear my daddy talking to her. I used to think them pictures came alive and walked through the house. Sometime late at night I could hear my mama talking to them. I said that wasn't gonna happen to me. I don't play that piano cause I don't want to wake them spirits.

Wilson The Piano Lesson This passage elaborates Berniece's relation to the piano. Berniece played the piano for her mother alone: when she played, her mother could hear her father speaking to her. Thus, the young Berniece—associated with a sort of maternal legacy—appears as a sort of priestess, the role she will decisively assume in the final scene in the exorcism of Sutter's ghost. In some sense, this speech establishes her duty in maintaining the family legacy. Berniece is the link to the ancestors, the means by which the living can invoke and implore their imagined origins for aid.

Cattle and fat sheep can all be had for the raiding, tripods all for the trading, and tawny-headed stallions. But a man's life breath cannot come back again— . . . Mother tells me, the immortal goddess Thetis with her glistening feet, that two fates bear me on to the day of death. If I hold out here and I lay siege to Troy, my journey home is gone, but my glory never dies. If I voyage back to the fatherland I love, my pride, my glory dies. . . .

With these words in Book 9, Achilles rejects the embassy of Achaean commanders come to win him back to the war effort. His response here shows that Agamemnon's effrontery—which he discusses earlier in his speech—does not constitute the sole reason for his refusal to fight. Achilles also fears the consequences in store for him if he remains in Troy. His mother, Thetis, has told him that fate has given him two options—either live a short but glorious life in Troy or return to Phthia and live on in old age but obscurity. As he confronts this choice, the promise of gifts and plunder—cattle, fat sheep, stallions—doesn't interest him at all. Such material gifts can be traded back and forth, or even taken away, as his prize Briseis was. In contrast, the truly precious things in the world are those that cannot be bought, sold, seized, or commodified in any way. These include glory and life itself.

Remember your own father, great godlike Achilles— as old as I am, past the threshold of deadly old age! No doubt the countrymen round about him plague him now, with no one there to defend him, beat away disaster. No one—but at least he hears you're still alive and his old heart rejoices, hopes rising, day by day, to see his beloved son come sailing home from Troy.

With these words, spoken in the middle of Book 24, Priam implores Achilles to return Hector's corpse for proper burial. He makes himself sympathetic in Achilles' eyes by drawing a parallel between himself and Achilles' father, Peleus. Priam imagines Peleus surrounded by enemies with no one to protect him—a predicament that immediately mirrors his own, as a supplicant standing in the middle of the enemy camp. Moreover, the two fathers' situations resemble each other on a broader scale as well. Hector was the bulwark for Priam's Troy just as Achilles was the bulwark for his father's kingdom back in Phthia, and with the two sons gone, Priam's enemies—the Achaeans—will now close in on him just as those of Peleus will. Priam claims that the parallel fails in only one respect: Peleus can at least hope that his son will come home one day.

There is nothing alive more agonized than man of all that breathe and crawl across the earth.

Zeus speaks these words to the horses of Achilles' chariot, who weep over the death of Patroclus in Book 17. Grim as they are, the lines accurately reflect the Homeric view of the human condition. Throughout The Iliad, as well as The Odyssey, mortals often figure as little more than the playthings of the gods. Gods can whisk them away from danger as easily as they can put them in the thick of it. It is thus appropriate that the above lines are spoken by a god, and not by a mortal character or the mortal poet; the gods know the mortals' agony, as they play the largest role in causing it. While gods can presumably manipulate and torment other animals that "breathe and crawl across the earth," humanity's consciousness of the arbitrariness of their treatment at the hands of the gods, their awareness of the cruel choreography going on above, increases their agony above that of all other creatures. For while the humans remain informed of the gods' interventions, they remain powerless to contradict them. Moreover, humans must deal with a similarly fruitless knowledge of their fates. The Iliad's two most important characters, Achilles and Hector, both know that they are doomed to die early deaths. Hector knows in addition that his city is doomed to fall, his brothers and family to be extinguished, and his wife to be reduced to slavery. These men's agony arises from the fact that they bear the burden of knowledge without being able to use this knowledge to bring about change.

I never escape you, you are always full of suspicion./Yet thus you can accomplish nothing surely, but be more distant from my heart than ever, and it will be the worse for you.

Zeus to Hera regarding the favor Zeus promised Thetis in secret about Achilleus.