Blessed is (s)he whose life has not tasted of evil.
When God has shaken a house, the winds of madness
Lash its breed till the breed is done:
Even so the deep-sea swell
Raked by wicked Thracian winds
Scours in its running the subaqueous darkness,
Churns the silt black from sea-bottom;
And the windy cliffs roar as they take its shock.
Here on the Labdacid house long we watched it piling,
Trouble on dead (wo)men's trouble: no generation
Frees the next from the stroke of God:
Deliverance does not come.
from The Antigone of Sophocles, as quoted
in E.R. Dodds, The Greeks and the Irrational.
The City of Roses bids you Peace...
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ourobouros
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rose
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ate
