I am your son, Father. You are my guide. You make things clear for me, and I obey you.
Good. That is the way to behave: subordinate. Not to lose you head over this woman. your pleasure with her would soon grow cold
Not here, no; she will not die here or now, King, and you'll never see my face again
Love, unconquerable Waster of rich men, keeper Of warm lights and all-night vigil In the soft face of a girl: Sea-wanderers, forest-visitor, Even the pure Immortals cannot escape you, And mortal man, in his one day's dusk, Trembles before your glory.