A Quote by Homer

Few sons attain the praise Of their great sires and most their sires disgrace. — © Homer
Few sons attain the praise Of their great sires and most their sires disgrace.
Books are immortal sons deifying their sires.
The Reproductions of the living Ens From sires to sons, unknown to sex, commence... Unknown to sex the pregnant oyster swells, And coral-insects build their radiate shells... Birth after birth the line unchanging runs, And fathers live transmitted in their sons; Each passing year beholds the unvarying kinds, The same their manners, and the same their minds.
Our sires' age was worse than our grandsires'. We their sons are more worthless than they: so in our turn we shall give the world a progeny yet more corrupt.
Even in animals there exists the spirit of their sires.
Men of England! who inheritRights that cost your sires their blood.
We are the children of many sires, and every drop of blood in us in its turn betrays its ancestor.
It is a duty we owe to posterity to see that our children shall know the virtues, and rise worthy of their sires.
Land of my sires! what mortal hand Can e'er untie the filial band That knits me to thy rugged strand!
If your descent is from heroic sires, Show in your life a remnant of their fires.
Enjoy what thou has inherited from thy sires if thou wouldn't really possess it. What we employ and use is never an oppressive burden; what the moment brings forth, that only can it profit by.
By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world. The foe long since in silence slept; Alike the conqueror silent sleeps; And Time the ruined bridge has swept Down the dark stream which seaward creeps. On this green bank, by this soft stream, We set to-day a votive stone; That memory may their deed redeem, When, like our sires, our sons are gone.
My days – the blossom of my youth and the flower of my manhood – have been darkened by the dreariness of servitude. In this my native land – in the land of my sires – I am degraded without fault as an alien and an outcast.
All transitory titles I detest; a virtuous life I mean to boast alone. Our birth's our sires'; our virtues be our own.
There will he nothing more that posterity can add to our immoral habits; our descendants must have the same desires and act the same follies as their sires. Every vice has reached its zenith.
Few fathers care much for their sons, or at least, most of them care more for their money. Of those who really love their sons, few know how to do it.
Strike-for your altars and your fires; Strike-for the green graves of your sires; God-and your native land!
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