Ésquilo

The act of evil / breeds others to follow, / young sins in its own likeness.

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Let there be / wealth without tears; enough for / the wise man who will ask no further.

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This is a sickness rooted and inherent / in the nature of a tyranny: / that he that holds it does not trust his friends.

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Time in his aging overtakes all things alike.

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Time brings all things to pass.

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Who, except the gods, / can live time through forever without any pain?

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For sufferers it is sweet to know before-hand clearly the pain that still remains for them.

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The high strength of men / knows no content with limitation.

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Every ruler is harsh whose rule is new.

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Do you not know, Prometheus, that words are healers of the sick temper?

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They who prosper take on airs of vanity.

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For the mighty even to give way is grace.

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Old men are always young enough to learn, with profit.

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Beyond age, leaf / withered, man goes three footed / no stronger than a child is, / a dream that falters in daylight.

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Obstinacy / standing alone is the weakest of all things / in one whose mind is not possessed by wisdom.

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Against necessity, / against its strength, no one can fight and win.

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Ask the gods nothing excessive.

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When a match has equal partners / then I fear not.

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Wrong must not win by technicalities.

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Many among men are they who set high / the show of honor, yet break justice.

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What is there / more kindly than the feeling between host and guest?

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The power that holds the sky’s majesty wins our worship.

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In few men is it part of nature to respect / a friend's prosperity without begrudging him.

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Pain lays not its touch / Upon a corpse.

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To make wail and lament for one’s ill fortune, when one will win a tear from the audience, is well worthwhile.

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Misfortune / wandering the same track lights now upon one / and now upon another.

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Justice inclines her scales so that wisdom comes at the price of suffering.

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Even he who is wiser than the wise may err.

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Only when man's life comes to its end in prosperity can one call that man happy.

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Destiny waits alike for the free man as well as for him enslaved by another's might.

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For somehow this is tyranny's disease, to trust no friends.

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There is no pain so great as the memory of joy in present grief.

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Bronze is the mirror of the form wine, of the heart.

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A prosperous fool is a grievous burden.

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The future you shall know when it has come before then forget it.

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For not many men, the proverb saith, can love a friend whom fortune prospereth unenvying.

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The meaning I picked, the one that changed my life Overcome fear, behold wonder.

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Exiles feed on hope.

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Few men have the natural strength to honour a friend's success without envy.

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Sweet is a grief well ended.

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