In other words, you are doing something foolish; the water will simply carry your words away. The phrase appears with various prepositions: ἐν ὕδατι γράψει in Plato, καθ᾿ ὕδατος in Lucian, etc., but the idea is always the same: only a fool would write on water! Similarly, only a fool would trust something written on water, as in this saying in Menander: Ἀνδρῶν δὲ φαύλων ὅρκον εἰς ὕδωρ γράφε, "Write the oath of bad men in water," i.e. their words cannot be trusted. From Greek γραφ- we get all the graph words in English, including the word "graph" itself.

Literally, "same-age delights in same-age." This saying appears in Aristotle's Eudemian Ethics in a discussion of friendship, and he marks the expression as proverbial with the word λέγεται, "it is said that" — λέγεται ἥλιξ ἥλικα τέρπει. You can see the root τερπ in the names Εὐτέρπη, the muse of music, and Τερψιχόρη, the muse of dancing. And note, Greek ἥλιξ is not the origin of English "helix," which instead comes from Greek ἕλιξ, meaning "something twisted, a spiral."

This is another proverbial fool's errand: you get wool from a sheep, not from a donkey. Compare the proverbial English "hen's teeth." The saying appears in Aristophanes' The Frogs, where Charon, the boatman, asks: τίς εἰς τοῦ Λήθης πεδίον, τίς εἰς ὄνου πόκας; "Who's for the plain of Lethe? Who's for the donkey's wool?" In this context, the "donkey's wool" is not just a fool's errand, but instead is an ultimate "nowhere," the annihilation that awaits all Charon's passengers. 

There is a rhyming Latin equivalent from the Middle Ages: Ieiunus venter non vult cantare libenter, "A hungry stomach will not gladly sing." The verb ᾄδω also appears in the form ἀείδω. As with so many important Greek words, the etymology is unknown.

The opening words, ἐμοῦ θανόντος, are a genitive absolute, the idea being that once I'm dead, it doesn't matter to me what happens; the earth might as well burn to ashes for all I care. The words are the first line of an iambic couplet from the Greek Anthology; the second line is: οὐδὲν μέλει μοι· τἀμὰ γὰρ καλῶς ἔχει, "It doesn't matter at all to me, for my situation (τὰ ἐμά, "my stuff") is just fine." The saying was quoted by the Emperor Tiberius, and this callous and self-centered sentiment certainly suits him.

This is a proverbial expression to warn someone that they are doing something that is dangerous. InPlato'sRepublicit appears in this form: ξυρεῖν ἐπιχειρεῖν λέοντα, "to attempt to shave the lion," literally putting your hand (ἐπι-χειρεῖν) to the task of shaving the lion. Compare the English saying, "to beard the lion in his own den," which similarly refers to a dangerous undertaking.

In other words, you are doing work which is only going to result in more work; you are making trouble for yourself which is only going to lead to more trouble. So, πόνον σπείρειν is in a sense even worse than πέτρας σπείρειν, "to sow rocks" (see earlier blog post), because rocks just lie there in the ground and produce no yield; the idea with πόνον σπείρεις is that you are going to harvest nothing but more work as a result of your work.

Compare the English saying "to leave no stone unturned." The historian Joannes Zonaras marks this as a proverbial expression: πάντα λίθον κινῶν, τὸ τῆς παροιμίας (παροιμία = proverb), as does Nicephorus Gregoras, πάντα λίθον κινῶν, τὸ τοῦ λόγου. From the λίθ- root, we get words like lithography and neolithic in English.

It is from the name of this Titan that we get the English word "atlas" as in a collection of maps of the world; more about the etymology of "atlas" in English.

In other words: you're wasting your breath because your audience is not listening, cannot listen, etc. Note the use of the dative, νεκρῷ, with a body part, οὖς; Greek regularly uses the dative case to express possession of body parts. The Greek word μῦθος originally meant any kind of speech or saying; then it came to mean more specifically a story or tale, and only later did the word "myth" come to suggest a fictional tale, a story that did not actually happen. What we call Aesop's fables in English were referred to both as μῦθοι and also as λόγοι in Greek (λόγος  being another Greek word with a wide range of meanings). As with so many Greek words, the etymology of μῦθος remains a mystery.

The words are spoken by the chorus in Aeschylus's Agamemnon, where the word μάθος is a poetic equivalent to μάθησις, "learning, the getting of knowledge, wisdom." The word πάθος (from the verb πάσχω) can simply mean "experience," but it can also have the negative connotation of "suffering." Given that the chorus then goes on to speak about πόνος, "hard work, toil," I opted for "suffering" in the English translation. In addition, Greek πάθος can also mean "emotion, passion," which is the sense it has taken on in the English word pathos, and also in compounds like sympathy and empathy. Compare a saying from an earlier blog post: Τα παθήματα μαθήματα.

This refers to the diminished strength and stamina that comes with old age, as seen in the contrast between a lively young horse and the plodding slowness of the old horse. Plutarch invokes the saying in his treatise on "Whether an Old Man Should Engage in Public Affairs" (a timely essay given the current presidential election in the United States). From the Greek root in γῆρας we get English words like geriatric, gerontology, etc.

This saying appears in the ancient commentary on Plato's Phaedrus, where Socrates asserts that it is right for even the wolf to have his say. The commentator explains: "the words of a wolf, i.e. of someone who does wrong in both word and deed." To explain Plato's meaning more specifically, the commentator then tells an Aesop's fable about the wolf who criticized a shepherd whom he saw eating a sheep: "What an outcry there would be," said the wolf, "if I were to do the same." (For those of you who are fans of Robert Pirsig's Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, you might remember that this is the passage from Plato which prompted Pirsig to say that "Phaedrus," his alter ego in the book, means "wolf" in Greek, a misstatement he corrected in a preface found in later editions of the book.)

This saying refers to an ancient legend about Midas and his barber, which you can read at Wikipedia. Midas kept his donkey ears wrapped up in a turban, a secret known only to his barber, but his barber could not resist whispering the secret into a hole in the ground; grass grew in that spot, and then the grass whispered the story to every passerby — and so Midas's secret became common knowledge. There are similar stories in many different cultures; see Midas and other folktales of type 782 collected by Dan Ashliman, which includes examples from Europe, India, and the Philippines. You can see the root of Greek οὖς (ὠτός) in English medical terms such as otologist and otolaryngologist.

The idea is that anybody can be bitten by a snake or a dog, etc., but you have to be really down on your luck for a meek creature like a sheep to bite you. The third-declension adjective ἀτυχής is an alpha-privative: ἀ-τυχής, un-lucky, un-fortunate, etc. Note that καὶ is an adverb here, not a conjunction: καὶ πρόβατον, even a sheep.

The swallow was the proverbial herald of spring, and so the new swallow referred to the advent of springtime (see Aristophanes' Knights). In connection with this saying, Erasmus cites an ancient song from Rhodes: Ἦλθε, ἦλθε χελιδών, καλὰς ὧρας ἄγουσα καὶ καλοὺς ἐνιαυτούς, "Come, come, swallow, bringing good seasons and good times." This Greek folk song even has its own article at Wikipedia: Swallow song of Rhodes. From the same Greek root in νέα, we get all the neo- words in English like neolithic, neologism, etc.

This proverb depends on the contrast between the single whip, μία, and πάντας, all whom the whip drives, i.e. πάντας βόες, all the cattle, all the horses, etc. (or all the human slaves). Erasmus explains that the saying can also be used to refer to work that is going well, nearly running of its own accord, so that only a single nudge is needed to keep things moving along. He also suggests that the single whip could refer to a shared motivation that drives people's actions, such as love, hate, a desire for gain, etc. Note that the feminine μία looks quite different than the masculine and neuter forms, εἷς and ἕν.

The Greeks did not hold dogs in high regard, so this saying referred to some lowly person who was not worthy of dignity or honors, but who was not altogether worthless and thus did deserve at least to be fed. Note that while the word κύων is common gender in Greek, this saying characterizes the dog as feminine: ἡ κύων. The adjective ἀξία takes a genitive complement: τοῦ βρώματος.

In other words, if you are a worthy person, you can live anywhere in the world as if it were your native land. The words are a fragment from a lost play by Euripides as quoted by the Roman Stoic philosopher Musonius Rufus in an essay about why exile should not be considered a bad thing (Musonius himself was exiled to the island of Gyara by the emperor Nero). A fuller version of the passage from Euripides reads: Ἅπας μὲν ἀὴρ αἰετῷ περάσιμος· ἅπασα δὲ χθὼν ἀνδρὶ γενναίῳ πατρίς, "All air can be crossed by the eagle; every land..." From Greek χθὼν we get the -chthon- words in English like chthonic and autochthonous.

The words are from the Biblical Book of Ecclesiastes. From the Greek ἀγαθή we get the name Agatha, as in Saint Agatha of Sicily; for more about the name, see Wikipedia: Agatha.

There is a fuller form of this saying found in Plutarch, quoting an iambic line from an unidentified tragic poet: Ἔστι Δίκης ὀφθαλμός, ὅς τὰ πάνθ' ὁρᾷ, "There is an eye of justice that sees all things" (πάνθ' ὁρᾷ = πάντα ὁρᾷ). For more about Δίκη, the goddess of justice, see Wikipedia: Dike.

Here's the meter of the iambic line for those of you who like verse:

Ἔστι Δίκης | ὀφθαλ-μός, ὅς | τὰ πάν-θ' ὁρᾷ.

In the mythological accounts of Heracles, we learn that he was subject to violent seizures and also psychotic episodes, as when he murdered his music teacher Linus with a lyre (see below), or when he killed his own wife and children (for details, see Wikipedia). This was called Ἡράκλειος νόσος, and also ἱερὰ νόσος, "the sacred sickness." The Greek medical writers associated the Ἡράκλειος νόσος with epilepsy, and for more about Heracles, epileptic seizures and psychotic episodes, see this article: Afflicted by the Gods: The Shared History and Neurobiology of Psychosis and Epilepsy.

The idea is that when there is good food to share, it's easy to find and keep friends. Note the sound-play between the verbs ζεῖ and ζῇ. There is also a related but rather different saying cited by Erasmus: χύτρης φιλία, "a friendship of the pot," which means a friendship that exists only because of good food, convenience, opportunity, etc., as opposed to true friendship which persists even in adversity. From the Greek φιλία, we get all the -phile words in English, such as... bibliophile!

Or, as we might say in English: "from head to foot" or "from head to toe" — although the Greek makes more sense than the English, referring to feet in the plural. The phrase is found already in Homer's Iliad, referring to Patroclus' body being prepared for his funeral. From the Greek κεφαλ- we get all the -cephal- words in English like encephalitis and cephalopod.

The words are spoken by Socrates in Plato's Meno. For the etymology of ἀλήθεια as "un-oblivion" (the opposite for the river Lethe), see Wikipedia: Aletheia.

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