Sadness

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Shunned (2018)

  Our friendship with Brian and Joanie went back more than ten years, before any of us was married. They were always easy and fun to be with, but a lethargy came over me at the thought of getting up to an alarm clock. “You know, Lindy, sometimes I worry about you.” “Really? Why?” “Well, you just aren’t the same old Linda. You work a lot and you’re tired all the time. You’re missing a lot of meetings. When you do go, you haven’t previewed the lessons. You rarely raise your hand to participate. That’s not the enthusiastic Linda I married. Remember that twenty-year-old pioneer who was putting in ninety hours per month in the service while she held down a part-time job?” “Give me a break, I haven’t changed that much.” By this time, we had reached a stretch of road that ran right along the edge of the lake. A breeze came up and challenged our pace. “Sure you have. Last Thursday you got home from work just as I was leaving for the Hall, and decided to stay home. The old Linda would have just hopped in the car and joined me.” “I was tired.” “Tired? When has that ever stopped you? You have more energy than most people I know. If your heart is into something, you can go and go.” “You exaggerate.” “Do I?” Ross continued. “Remember the old days when we started street work in downtown Portland at seven o’clock in the morning? We would stay out in field service all day, stop for dinner, then make a few return visits. Heck, sometimes we’d even go see a late movie.” “Ross, that was over eight years ago—we were in our early twenties.” Everything he said was true. I was struck by a depressing realization, not necessarily the one he intended. I’d spent my life in honorable mediocrity, a grind, a landscape where service and routine dominated. Yes, I’d enjoyed many fun moments, but they were just thin strips of clay eking out space between the boulders of obligation and seeking to please others. Where was the bliss, the pleasure, of living? “No, Linda, there has been a change in you, and it has nothing to do with age. One thing I know about you: when you set your mind and heart on something, there isn’t anything that stands in your way, including older bones. No, there’s something else on your mind. I’ve seen you, looking off dreamily as we drive down the road. You were doing it this morning on the way here. When are you going to clue me in?” We were back at our car by now. Ross leaned his bike up against a nearby tree, removed his helmet and gloves, leaned against the side of the car, and, crossing his hands at his lap, watched and waited while I did the same. We’d been married nine years.

• From Shunned (2018)

  Her voice trailed off, and a tear rolled down her face. She reached for a napkin from the tray and wiped her cheeks. Seeing her this openly emotional was unsettling. I froze for a moment, not knowing what to do, wondering if I should reach out and try to comfort her. My throat ached as I took another sip of whiskey and noticed I was also getting teary-eyed. It was disarming to see my sister express such explicit and genuine emotion and care for me. We’d never talked this frankly before. “You need to understand,” she said, “that the community will never forget this. Even when you straighten yourself out, you’ll always be the person who strayed. It changes the way people look at you.” That was the moment I realized how much my sister had suffered during her own spiritual crisis. I was embarrassed to remember how I’d been one of the people who’d judged her. I was in my early twenties and every inch the Christian soldier, zealous and pioneering. When our family learned of her affair, we all lined up to meet with her one-on-one. Shortly after her indiscretions were revealed, she did what we all considered the honorable thing by ending the relationship, repenting for her sins, and turning her life around. She was single for several years, then found a loving relationship with Ove and was now an elder’s wife. I had assumed her troubles were old news and long forgotten. Still, she seemed to be carrying that burden from the past. In small ways, I had helped her through that rough time, and now she was attempting to return the favor. “Why didn’t you just leave The Truth?” I asked. “Did you ever question it through all of this?” “Not for one minute,” she said. “I see now I just let my spiritual side whither, and that opened me up to a bunch of foolishness. I just wasn’t myself. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I failed a big test.” A cloud passed overhead, casting the room in gray for a few moments. I sipped some more from my shot glass. I hadn’t thought about it in years, but I realized how much courage my sister had shown in admitting the “error” of her ways and returning to the meetings, filled with people who were judging her, even as they supported her spiritual recovery. I knew I would need that kind of courage, too, but for my own reasons. It struck me how much we had in common, my sister and I, raised in the same house, living in parallel, sharing religious and family traditions. And yet here we were, equally passionate and headed in completely different directions. “What you went through took a lot of guts, Lory. I gotta hand it to you.” She was holding her teacup in her lap. Tears filled her eyes again. “But I had to.” She covered her mouth with the napkin and composed herself. “I didn’t want to die.”

• From Lit: A Memoir (2009)

  I could put in a skylight, and you could paint again. These old bones wouldn’t make it through a winter. We sit in a silence it’s hard not to scribble in with chat. Her long ash falls on the quilt, and she rubs it in, saying, It blends. Is there anything in there you didn’t know, that we hadn’t talked about? She says, I never knew you felt that way. What way? She shrugs and shakes her head, then asks, Didn’t we have some fun? Sure, later on some. We have fun now. But like you said, living through it… I mean in Colorado. Remember we went to that department store in Denver and I got y’all those little coats with fur on the hood? My head kecks to one side. I say, I got lost that day. But we found you. And y’all had your horses, and the house was so fancy. There was shuffleboard at the bar y’all liked to play. You loved the jukebox . “Ring of Fire,” my favorite song. But we were afraid you were gonna go to jail. Whatever for? Shooting Hector. Aw—she waves her hand in a pshaw motion—you knew I’d never shoot anybody. Dev comes to the doorway, one knuckle making a screwing motion in his eye socket, saying, Are y’all crying again? Then: Why does everybody from Texas cry and smoke? The next morning I come down about dawn, and she’s on the back porch in the saggy yellow seat of an old director’s chair, the final pages flipped over to the back. She’s staring at her bare feet. She glances up to say, I can’t believe I was such an asshole. You suffered the torments of the damned. But you saw that, didn’t you? All that time I thought I was so alone. I wasn’t alone at all, not with you and your sister. I must’ve done something right. You both turned out so magnificently. We’re a lot of fun to be with, I say. The shoulders I put my arms around are small as a schoolgirl’s. You did a lot of things right, I add. When Lecia’s turn comes, she meets me in Denver, renting a vast sofa of a car that I wheel through mountain passes while she turns pages. The child-abuse tour, she jokes it is, for my agenda is to double-check my words against the old landscape or school records or anybody we can drag up. But to say she’s skimmed over events I couldn’t forget is an understatement. She knows what happened enough to verify scenes, but it’s all been packed away. She didn’t have to go into therapy, she’s always claimed, because I told her the insights that my own therapy had routed out. Keeping the volume down made her the brave one, the unflinching one. In the mountains while Lecia reads, we revisit the town that held the summer cabin neither of us can find.

• From Vision Quest (1979)

  I’ve seen the cabin he lived in—the foundation of it, anyway. And I’ve walked most of the two miles he walked to the highway to catch the school bus. Part of that walk is underwater now. I’ve seen pictures of him in his Sunday best—his sweatshirt, his black jeans, and his weird high shoes with the huge round toes. Dad’s hair was jet black and straight then. His complexion is darker than mine and his cheekbones are high. In one of his old basketball pictures he looks like an Indian. His hair is wavy now and gray around the ears. He said he pressed the wave into it when he was fishing in Alaska before he went into the service. In his Alaska pictures he’s got one of those little thin mustaches and looks exactly like the old movie star Clark Gable. I try to get him to grow it again, but he won’t. Every Christmas, Dad always got Mom and me about a dozen presents each. Perfume and scented soap and slippers and robes and tapes for her, always socks and gloves and a flannel shirt and whatever I needed for school or sports. I don’t think he got Mom anything this year, though. But he got Carla and me all kinds of stuff. I think it really hurts him that I’m not able to eat my way through the holidays this year. Otto takes up the slack. This evening he was good for a few chocolate peanuts for his pockets, a couple pieces of fudge, a slice of cold turkey, and a big mouthful of hard candy to keep his energy level high through our three miles. Kuch went for a glass of cider. Dad likes Otto. Otto reminds Dad of himself as a kid. I can see it in his face. Otto doesn’t have much money and neither did Dad. Otto’s parents broke up when he was pretty young and so did Dad’s. Otto’s got it a little tougher than Dad had it, though. At least as far as I know. Otto’s been living with his father in an apartment downtown since his mother was committed to the state hospital for her alcoholism. I used to stop by his place on my way home from work, until one night when just before I knocked on the window of their apartment, I heard Mr. Lafte yelling at Otto that he was just a big fat baby and not as tough as he thought. He was drunk and I could hear him push Otto after each sentence. “Oh, come on, Dad. Jesus Christ, lay off!” was about all Otto said back. I wanted to leave, out of respect for Otto, but my curiosity got the best of me, and I walked quietly up to their half-open door. Mr. Lafte, who is nearly as big as Otto but about half dead from straight whiskey and three packs of Camels a day, kept pushing and pushing.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  —r7a λυγρά bane, misery, Il. 24. 531, Od. 14. 226; ruin, 3. 3033 ἔξοχα λύγρ᾽ εἰδυῖα versed above all ix banes, 11. 432, cf. Hes. Th. 314; λυγρὰ νοεῦντες Hes. Op. 259. 2. with an act. force, σήματα r. Π. 7. 168; φάρμακα λυγρά, opp. to ἐσθλά, baneful drugs, Od. 4. 230., 10, 236; γαστὴρ λυγρή the stomach that cause of bane, 17. 4733 but, 3. rarely of external objects, εἵματα λυγρά sorry garments, 16. 457. II. of persons, baneful, mischievous, 9. 4543 but more commonly, sorry, i.e. weak, cowardly, Il. 13. 119, 237, Od. 18. 107; also in Trag., Aesch. Fr. 374, Soph. Ant. 823. III. Adv. —p@s, sorely, λυγρῶς πεπληγυΐα Il. 5. 763.—Aevyadeos, λυγρός were both used by Hom.; but Avypés remained in use among later Poets, Aevyadéos became nearly obsol. (From 4/AYT' come also λευγ-αλέος, λοιγτός ; cf. Skt. rug’, rug’-imi (frango, vexo), rug’, rug'-4 (morbus) ; Lat. lug-eo, lug-ubris, luc-tus; Lith. luz-ti ( frang?).) λύγώδης, ες, (λύγος) like a willow-twig, Eust. 834. 32. Λυδία, ἡ, Lydia, the kingdom of Croesus in Asia Minor, afterwards a Persian satrapy, Hdt., εἴς. :---τὰ Λυδιακά, a history of Lydia by Xan- thus, Ath. 515 E. Addifw, to play the Lydian, Avdifwv, of Magnes, in reference to his play called Λυδοί, Ar. Eq. 523; Λυδίζειν τὴν στολήν Philostr. 214 :—in Phot. and Suid. also λυδιάζω. Λύδιος, a, ov, of Lydia, Lydian, Pind.; also os, ov, Luc. V. H. 1. 8, Harm. 1 :—proverb., mapa τὸ Λύδιον ἅρμα θέειν to be left in the lurch, Paroemiogr., cf. Pind. Fr. 222 :---Λυδία λίθος, 4, a silicious stone used to assay gold, and first discovered in India, elsewhere βάσανος, Λυδία yap λίθος μανύει χρυσόν Bacchyl. 20, cf. Soph. Fr. 886; also, A. πέτρα Theocr. 12. 36; and ἡ A., Anon, in An. Oxon. 3. 216; cf. Theophr. Lap. 46, 47. Λῦυδιστί [7], Adv. in the Lydian tongue, after the Lydian fashion, Cratin. “Ap. 2, Plat. Lach. 188 D: in Music, in the Lydian mode, ἡ A. ἁρμονία Plat. Rep. 398 E, cf. Arist. Pol. 8. 7, 15, Plut. 2. 1184 B. λυδίων, ὠνος, 5, the Lat. ludio, ludius, Dion. H. 2. 71; cf. Λυδός. Λῦδο-πᾶθηής, ἔς, voluptuous as a Lydian, Anacr. 100; cf. ἡδυπαθής. Λῦδός, ov, ὁ, a Lydian, Pind. O. 1. 37, Hdt., etc.:—also as Adj. for Λύδιος, Λυδὴ κερικίς, A. πηκτίς Soph. Fr. 48, 361. 11. --λυδίων, App. Pun. 66. λύζω, fut. ἕω; the aor. is ἔλυγξα in Galen. 15. 846:—do have the hiccup, Hipp. Coac. 160, Arist. Probl. 33. 13. II. to sob violently, from fear or cold, of φοβούμενοι καὶ of ῥιγοῦντες λύζουσιν Arist. Probl. 33- 13 (whence Dind. would restore Av¢w for ἐμήν in Aesch, Ag. 14); A. καὶ δακρύειν Ar. Ach. 690, cf. Anth. P. 7. 218. (Onomatop.; hence AVE (λυγ-γός), λυγ-μός, λυγ-γαίνω, ἀναλύζω ; but prob. the orig. Root was ZAYYD, cf. O. H. 6. sluce-an (schluck-en), Gael. sluig-idh ; perth. Lat. singul-tare may be akin.)

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Indeed, it would not be long before the rift between the two men became irreparable as Staupitz refused to follow Luther in rejecting the Pope and leaving the Church; he finally deserted his former protégé when Luther was excommunicated in early 1521. The instruction Staupitz gives Luther in his dream—to be calm—is exactly what he found difficult. Indeed, in a previous letter to Staupitz on February 20 Luther had opened dramatically, saying he wanted to be “still,” but was seized and driven by God, and “thrown into the noise.” 10 The entire October letter is full of noise: news about disputations, envy, and argument. So what does the dream mean? Is Staupitz’s moving hand reaching out to Luther or waving him goodbye? Is his confessor’s return dependent upon Luther becoming “calm” or “still” ( quietus ), or indeed, on his keeping “quiet,” as the Latin word may also imply—that is, halting his struggle against the Pope? It was psychologically prescient. Staupitz almost certainly sent back the copies of the commentary on Galatians that Luther had enclosed with his October letter, refusing his protégé’s gift: He could hardly have made it clearer that he would have no truck with the new theology. 11 In January 1521, Luther reminded him of the words he had spoken at Augsburg: “Remember, Friar, you began this in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ,” warning him that now matters were becoming serious. 12 By the time the final bull of excommunication was published on January 3, 1521, Luther could no longer be sure of Staupitz’s loyalty. In February he was complaining that his confessor had already betrayed him by writing to the Pope, accepting him as judge in the matter, for Leo would certainly force him to deny Luther’s teaching. Luther underlined the extent of Staupitz’s capitulation: If God loved him, he would force him to revoke his acceptance, for in the bull the Pope had condemned all that Staupitz had himself taught and believed until now. “But this is not a time to fear, but to shout,” Luther expostulated, adding, “As much as you exhort me to humility, so I exhort you to be proud.” He concluded: “You have too much humility, just as I have too much pride.” Luther contrasted what he termed Staupitz’s “submission” with the Elector’s prudence, wisdom, and—in a dig at his confessor’s pusillanimity—constancy; he also described how others, like the humanist and knight Ulrich von Hutten, were standing by him. “Your submission has saddened me, and has shown me another Staupitz than the earlier Staupitz, the proclaimer of grace and of the Cross,” Luther wrote. “If you had done this before finding out about the bull and the insult to Christ, you would not have saddened me so greatly.” 13 It seems that Luther did not write to Staupitz again for more than a year.

• From Lit: A Memoir (2009)

  The aroma builds up as I get close to the dayroom. A nurse brushes past me, her arms braceleted in red-ribboned Christmas wreaths. Peering past her, I see dozens of wreaths of every kind. They fill the chairs where residents usually hang out. The nurses are stacking them on a dolly the custodians would (with bemused faces) wheel onto the service elevator. Off to one side, Pam stands with an orange ping-pong paddle, occasionally bouncing the ball on it. She says, You missed the showdown. It turns out Tina planted in Betty the hope that—with her extraordinary talent for floral arrangement and Tina’s acumen—they could make millions selling wreaths. Betty could be free from her father’s house, and Tina could leave public housing. So for weeks they’ve been ginning out an extra wreath here and there, squirreling them away in the art room. But in the small and densely packed confines of Tina’s skull, the plan’s gotten larger and larger—visits on Oprah and Johnny Carson are involved. After she stormed out on me the night before, she convinced Betty to break into the art room in the wee hours, even luring Flora and Willy to chip in, like stockholders. At dawn, the day nurses found wreaths by the stack. Even Willy made one out of doll’s heads painted blue with tempera paint. A nurse passes by with more wreaths. I ask Pam where everybody wound up. Betty’s modeling the latest in four-point restraints up in the Monkey House. Her insurance has run out anyway, so the minute she’s stable, she’s gone anyhow. Flora’s in the safe room. Willy’s medicated. What about Tina? I say. Mighty Tina. She executed some impressive kickboxing moves, Pam says . On the nurses? Just the orderlies. I actually don’t think she made contact with anybody. I came out of my room and saw her do a flying side kick. Very Bruce Lee. Then later, she went bye-bye on the gurney. We stand in silence outside the barren dayroom for a while. I’m conjuring their tormented faces—Tina’s and Betty’s, Flora’s and Willy’s—arrayed before me like plucked blossoms. The prayer’s automatic, and it comes like a burst of lightning—some version of God help them . Petitioning whatever light I’m starting to believe in to shine on them. Give Betty a bite to eat, and free Will’s face of sores. Chase the demons from Flora, and lower Tina into a single pair of loving arms. Whether you believe prayers like this affect external affairs doesn’t matter. They measure the overhaul in my psyche and character. Time for meds, ladies, a passing nurse says. Pam turns on her heel, but I hang there a long time in that eucalyptus odor, which conjures up so many sickrooms. Mine when I was a kid and I viewed the world through a scrim of fever, and my mother’s white hands smoothed Vicks on my chest; Dev’s those nights he choked for air in the vaporizer fog; Daddy’s before he died.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  As with all aspects of what was now a public life, these letters were published and available as a collection, edited by one of his close associates, Caspar Cruciger, Etliche Trostschrifften vnd predigten/ fur die so in tods vnd ander not vnd anfechtung sind, 1545. Melancholy was an important part, too, of his relationship with Joachim of Anhalt (WB 7, 2113, May 23, 1534), and Luther speculated that it ran in the family, recalling the story of Fürst Wilhelm von Anhalt-Zerbst, who became a Franciscan monk and went about begging at Magdeburg. Revealingly he advised Joachim to hunt, ride, and enjoy company—not like “me who has spent my life with sorrowing and looking on the gloomy side” ( Trauren und Saursehen, 66:20)—but now, he said, he sought happiness where he could. 21. Markert, Menschen um Luther, 319–29. 22. How this relationship worked emerges in a story Luther told about when he was grappling with the interpretation of a biblical passage, and the Devil disputed with him; the Devil was winning and he “just about strangled me, as if my heart would melt in my body” (WT 1, 141, 62:32). He asked Bugenhagen to read the same text, and Bugenhagen, not realizing Luther was presenting the Devil’s interpretation, apparently agreed with him. The reformer had to spend the whole night “with a heavy heart” (WT 1, 141, 63:5–6), only to be relieved the next day when an angry Bugenhagen appeared, telling him that his abstruse interpretation of the passage had been “ridiculous.” At one level, Luther of course knew the interpretation was wrong, but he needed Bugenhagen’s pastoral authority to believe it. 23. Posset, Front-Runner, 101. 24. Kolb, Amsdorf, 16, 27–30. 25. Luther had tried to persuade him to visit in the monastery, offering him a new room, in 1531; WB 6, 1885, Nov. 22, 1531. Nikolaus Hausmann, another friend from Luther’s generation, remained a lifelong bachelor; his death in 1538 from a stroke, which he suffered when he gave his first sermon as superintendent in Freiberg, was a bitter blow. 26. WB 8, 3400, Nov. 6, 1539, 586:23–24. 27. The situation was further complicated by the tensions generated in the friendship with Melanchthon and the need to show loyalty both to Luther and Melanchthon, not always on the same side. For example, Veit Amerbach was forced to leave Wittenberg in 1543 after a dispute with Melanchthon; WB 10, 3838, Jan. 13, 1543; 3943, Dec. 3, 1543; 3967, Feb. 9, 1544. 28. WB 4, 1017, June 8, 1526. He asked Johann Rühel to let Agricola know, adding “for he must be thinking about this time of year what it means to have sons” (87:10–11). On Agricola, see Kawerau, Agricola . 29. See, for example, WB 4, 1009, May 11, 1526. 30. WB 4, 1111, [June 10, 1527]; 1119 [early July 1527]. 31. WB 4, 1322, Sept. 11, 1528, 558:10–11; 1325, second half Sept. 1528; WB 5, 1378, Feb. 1, 1529.

• From Lit: A Memoir (2009)

  38 Lord of the Flies All men would be tyrants if they could. —Daniel Defoe O ne winter afternoon, waiting for Dev to come home through the snow, I hear a thrash of banging against the storm door. Running out from the kitchen, I see him fumbling with the outside handle as snowballs splatter around him. I yank open the door, and the kids scatter like mice. Dev’s cheeks are sopping and crimson, which only makes his black-lashed blue eyes brighter. They’re fixed in outrage, staring past me. When I ask how many kids there are and he tells me five, I have to stop myself from busting out the door to chase the little bastards down. Over cups of cocoa, we sit in the tiny kitchen, and he says, Why is this happening to me? in a voice so wholly exhausted, he might have been sixty. With his spoon, he’s fishing the sodden marshmallow off his cocoa. Because, I say, children are childish. You’re new to school, relatively. They’ve all grown up together. You’re the obvious choice. He stuffs the marshmallow in his mouth and ponders this before asking, Why would God let this happen ? The question—the same I’d dwelled on in the past—maybe shows the effects of our nightly prayers. Because, I say, when you grow up, you’re gonna be so smart and good-looking that if something bad didn’t happen to you now, you’d be a jerk then—one of those snotty kids who thinks he’s all that. Like Dan. I’m thinking specifically of Dan, I say (I barely know who Dan is). Dev picks at the foam atop his cocoa, saying, Dan knows karate. He only invited the cool kids to his birthday. He studies the cocoa as if it were tea leaves foretelling the soggiest future. I get up and place a skillet on the stove for another supper of scrambled eggs. After a while he says, There are so many of them. I mean, the snowballs just kept coming. Isn’t there a teacher or grown-up you can appeal to at school? They act like they’re my friends in school. Then they start chasing me. I offer to start picking him up again, and he pins me with a tired look. I’m not a baby, he says. All the other kids walk home. I know, I know. Okay. We sit there listening to the wind make the windowpanes shudder. You know, I say, some people think when somebody slaps you, you should turn the other cheek. He says, face still chapped scarlet, I only have two cheeks. That night, tucking him in, I tell him how I’d been the littlest kid in my neighborhood, and because I skipped a grade and had a propensity to mouth off, they beat me up all the time. I say, You know your grandpa Pete always told me to bite them. This strikes Dev as hilarious. He says, He wanted you to bite them?

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  31 In 1530 he wrote to Melanchthon about a weakness in his head that stopped him from working: Like Paul’s suffering, the angel of Satan was “beating him with his fists.” 32 At the same time he suggested that those suffering from melancholia should not only eat and drink more, but also joke and play games so as to spite the Devil. 33 We do not know how far the early Anfechtungen were the same as the attacks of depression and sadness he experienced later, nor whether at this early stage he thought that the Devil was involved, but it is clear that they concerned his relationship with God—and to that extent, Staupitz was quite right that they were essential to Luther’s form of devotion. — E VERY monastery is a living as well as a devotional community, involving practical organization and labor within a clear system of hierarchy. Despite his apparent difficulties with paternal authority, this was an environment in which Luther thrived, rapidly moving up the monastic ladder. He quickly became a subdeacon, and then a deacon; in 1508–9 he was sent briefly to the University of Wittenberg, where he taught philosophy and continued studies in theology. Erfurt was a prosperous monastery, and it had many properties to administer. Luther learned how to ensure that debts were paid, annual dues delivered, and the monastery provisioned. Listing his various duties in 1516 (by which time he had left Erfurt and was back in Wittenberg), he wrote, “I am a preacher at the monastery, I am a reader during mealtimes, I am asked daily to preach in the city church, I have to supervise the study [of novices and friars], I am vicar (and that means I am eleven times prior), I am caretaker of the fish [pond] at Lietzkau, I represent the people of Herzberg at the court in Torgau, I lecture on Paul, and I am assembling [material for] a commentary on the Psalms.” But mostly, he complained, “my time is filled with the job of letter writing”—so many that he often forgot what he had already written, asking his friend and fellow Augustinian Johannes Lang to tell him if he was repeating himself. All that—and then, he went on, “there are my own struggles with the flesh, the world, and the Devil. See what a lazy man I am!” 34 Luther might gripe about the administrative burdens, but he clearly relished the intellectual work, and he was evidently good at managing people and organizing, skills he may have picked up from his father.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  ἀνία, Ion. avin, Aeol. ὀνία, 7, grief, sorrow, distress, trouble, Od. 15. 394, Hes. Th. 611, Sappho 1. 3, Theogn. 76, etc.; ὑπὸ τῆς ἀνίας ave- θολοῦθ᾽ ἡ καρδία Pherecr. Μυρμ. 8; εἰς ἀνίαν ἔρχεταί τινι is like to be a mischief to him, Soph. Aj. 1138, cf. ἄλυπος ; also in Prose, Plat. Gorg. 477 D, Prot. 355 A, al. ;—also in pl., ὀνίαισι Sappho 1. ς. ; ἀντ᾽ ἀνιῶν ἀνίαι Theogn. 344 ; ἐμοὶ λιπὼν ἀνίας Soph. Aj. 973, cf. 1005, Ph. 1115, Plat. Gorg. 353 E. 2. actively, δαιτὸς avin the killjoy of our feast, Od. 17. 446; ἄπρηκτος avin inevitable bane, of Scylla, 12. 223; avin καὶ πολὺς ὕπνος an annoyance, 15. 394. [In Hom. and Soph. (who alone of the Trag. uses the word) always t. From Theogn, and Sappho downwards, the Poets made the 2 long or short, as the verse required ; though the Homeric quantity prevailed in Ep., Ruhnk. Ep. Cr. p. 276, Pors. Phoen. 1334.] avia, Dor. for ἡνία, a rein, Pind. ἀνιάζω, only used in pres. and impf. (except aor. ἠνίάσα Anth, P. 11. 254): lon. impf. ἀντάζεσκον, Ap. Rh.:—Ep. Verb, to grieve, distress, like ἀνιάω, c. acc. pers., ὅς κεν τοῦτον ἀνιάζῃ Od. το. 323; GAN ὅτε δή ©? ῥ᾽ ἀνίαζον ..’Axarovs (Eust. ᾿Αχαιοί) Il, 23. 721, v. Spitzn. II. ἀνθυβρίζω ---- ἀνιερόω. intr. to be grieved or distressed, feel grief, θυμῷ avialwy grieving at heart, Od. 22.87; ἀλλ᾽ ὅτε δή ῥ᾽ ἀνίαζε was grieving, growing weary, 4.1603; κτεάτεσσιν ὑπερφιάλως ἀνιάζει he grieves for his goods, Il. 18. 300; ἐπὶ παιδί Arat. 196. [i metri grat. in Hom, and other Ep.] ἀνιακκάς, apparently the name of a tune, Eubul. Kay. 6. ἀνίᾶμα, ατος, τό, a grief, sorrow, Byz. dv-tdopat, Dep. :—to cure again, repair, τὸ παρεὸν τρῶμα ἀνιεῦνται (which in sense at least is an Ion. fut.), Hdt. 7. 236. [V. sub ἰάομαι.} ἀν-ιἄρίζω, Dor. for ἀνιερίζω, to dedicate, C. 1. 5773. ἀνιᾶρός, a, dv, Ion. and Ep. ἀνιηρός, 7, dv: (ἀνιάω) :—grievous, troublesome, annoying, of persons, πτωχὸν avinpov Od. 17.220; ἐχθροῖς aviapoi Ar. Pl. 561, cf. Lysias 173. 19:—of animals, σχέτλια καὶ av. Hadt. 3. τοῦ :—Adv., ἀνιαρῶς λέγειν Soph. Ant. 316. 2. mostly of things, painful, grievous, πτωχεύειν πάντων ἔστ᾽ ἀνιηρότατον Tytt. 7. 4, cf. Theogn. 124; πολλ᾽ ἀνιηρὰ παθών Theogn. 276, cf. 472; opp. to ἡδύ, Eur. Med. 1095, cf. Plat. Prot. 355 E; τοῖς ἀνιαροῖς γεγενημένοις Dem. 323. 3:—Comp. ἀνιαρότερος Lys. 118. 28, cf. Tyrt. and Theogn. ll. c.: irr. Comp. ἀνιηρέστερος Od. 2. 190 (cf. ἄκρατος). 11. pass. grieved, distressed, Xen, Cyr. 1. 4, 14 :—Adv. —p@s wretchedly, ζῆν Id. Mem. 1.6, 4. [In Hom. and Soph. always ἄνϊ-- ; dvinpos in Tyrt. and Theogn. ll. c.; in Eur. also and Com. poets &iapos,—so that 4 was short in familiar language ; cf. ἀνιάω.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  Sakvypds, a, dv, biting, Hermes in Stob. Ecl. 1. 964. δακνιστήρ, jpos, ὁ, a biter, stinger, v. sub μακιστήρ. δάκνω, first in Tyrtae. and Theogn.: fut. δήξομαι Hipp. 568. 35, Att.: pf. δέδηχα Babr. 77: aor. ἔδᾶκον Hdt., etc., Ep. daxe Il., redupl. δέδακε Anth. P. 12.15; Ep. inf. δακέειν 1]. (this is the only tense used by Hom.):— Pass., fut. δηχθήσομαι Eur. Alc. 1100: aor. ἐδήχθην often in Att.; later ἐδάκην, Aretae. Caus. M. Diut. 2. 2: pf. δέδηγμαι Att. (From 4 KAK come also δάκος, δακετόν, δῆγμα, etc.; cf. Skt. das, dasami (mordeo), dasman (δῆγμα) ; Goth. tah-ja (σκορπίζων, dis-tah-eins (δια- omopa): cf. δάκρυ.) To bite, of dogs, δακέειν μὲν ἀπετρωπῶντο λεόντων 1]. 18. 585; of a gnat, ἰσχανάᾳ δακέειν 17. 572; στόμιον 5. to champ the bit, Aesch. Pr. 1009; χεῖλος ὀδοῦσι δακών, as a mark of stern determination, Tyrtae. 7. 32; 5. στόμα to bite one’s tongue, so as to refrain from speaking, πρὸ τῶν τοιούτων χρὴ λόγων δ. στόμα Aesch. Fr. 293, cf. Soph. Tr. 976; δ. ἑαυτόν to bite one’s lips for fear of laugh- ing, Ar. Ran. 43; so (by a joke παρὰ προσδοκίαν), 5. θυμόν Id. Nub. 1369; δ. χόλον Ap. Rh. 3. 1170:—for Aesch. Cho. 843, v. sub €A- καίνω. ΤΙ. metaph. of pungent smoke and dust, fo sting or prick the eyes, Ar. Ach. 18, Lys. 298, Pl. 822; δ. ὄμματα of dry winds, Hipp. Aph. 1247. III. of the mind, to bite or sting, δάκε δὲ φρένας Ἕκτορι μῦθος Il. 5. 493, cf. Hes. Th. 567; ἔδακε ἡ λύπη Hat. 7. 16,1; συμφορὰ δ. Aesch. Pers. 846; λόφοι δὲ κώδων τ᾽ οὐ δάκνουσ᾽ ἄνευ δορός have no sting, Id. Theb. 439; σαίνουσα δάκνεις Soph. Fr. 902 :--- so often in Pass., of love, δηχθεῖσα κέντροις .. ἠράσθη Eur. Hipp. 1303; of vexation, δάκνομαι ψυχήν Theogn. 910; καρδίαν δέδηγμαι Ar. Ach. 323 1; ὑπὸ τῆς δαπάνης Id. Nub. 123 πρός τι, ἐπί τινι at a thing, Soph. Ph. 378, Xen. Cyr. 4. 3, 33 with a partic., ἐδήχθη ἀκούσας Ib. 1. 4, 13. δἄκνώδης, ες, (εἶδος) biting, pungent, Hipp. Aph. 1253, etc. δάκος, cos,76, (4/AAK, δάκνω) an animal of which the bite is dangerous, a noxious beast, like δακετόν, Aesch. Pr. 583, Theb. 558; “Apyetoy 6., of the Trojan horse, Id. Ag. 824; δάκη θηρῶν ravenous beasts, Eur. Hipp. 646; θήρειον δ. Id. Cycl. 324. II. a bite, sting, like δῆγμα, δ. κακαγοριᾶν Pind. P. 2. 97, where however others read κακαγορίαν ; but cf. Opp. H. 2. 454., 5. 30.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  Μεά., φράξαντο δὲ νῆας ἕρκεϊ χαλκείῳ they fenced in their ships, Il. 15. 566, cf. Aesch. Theb. 63 ;, φραῤάμενοι τὴν ἀκρόπολιν Hat. 8. 51; πύλας .. ἐφραξάμεσθα προστάταις Aesch. Theb. 798 ; but, ἐφράξαντο τὸ τεῖχος they strengthened it, Hdt.9. 70; and so, absol., 4o strengthen one’s forti- Jications, Thuc. 8. 35 :—Pass., φραχθέντες σάκεσιν fenced with shields, Il. 17. 268, cf. Hdt. 7. 142, Eur. I. A. 826, etc.: so absol., πεφραγμένοι fenced, fortified, prepared for defence, Hdt. 5. 34, Thuc. 1. 82; of a person, armed, mepp. τοξεύμασιν Soph. Fr. 376 :—metaph., ἐλπίδος πεφραγμένος having the defence of hope, Id. Ant. 235 (where Schol. and some Mss. read δεδραγμένος, but Cod. L. πεπραγμένος, i. e. πεφραγ- pévos). II. 20 put up as a fence, φράξαντες δόρυ δουρί, σάνεος σάκεϊ joining spear close to spear, shield to shield (so as to make a fence), Il. 13. 130; φράξαντες τὰ γέρρα having put up the shields as a close, thick fence, Hdt. 9. 61 ;—for Aesch. Ag. 823, v. sub πάγη. 2. in Xen. Cyn. 3, 5, of dogs that put down their tails. IIL. to stop up, block, τὴν ὁδόν Hdt. 8. 7; τοὺς ἔσπλους Thuc. 4.13; τὰ παρασκήνια Dem. 520. 10 :—Pass., of the Nile, Hdt. 2. 99; ὑπὸ ῥευμάτων φραχθείς [ὁ πλεύμων] Plat. Tim. 84D; πεφραγμένων τῶν πόρων Arist. Probl. 23. Be 2. metaph. Zo bar, stop, τι Ath. 157 D: Pass., va πᾶν στόμα φραγῇ Ep. Rom. 3. 19, cf. 2 Cor. 11. to. pac réov, verb. Adj. of φράζω, one must tell, Ep. Plat. 312 Ὁ. φραστήρ, ἤρος, 6, (φράζω) a teller, expounder, informer, Twos of or about a thing, Xen. Cyr. 4.5, 17; φραστὴρ ὅδῶν a guide, Ib. 5. 4, 40, cf. Plut. 2. 243 F :—paoripes ὀδόντες, like γνώμονες, the teeth that tell the age, Schol. Ar. Ran. 421, Suid. 5. v. éwrérns (cf. pparnp). φραστικός, 7, dv, (φράζων) suited for indicating or expressing, Twos Def. Plat. 414 Ὁ; τὸ op. μέρος τοῦ λόγου, opp. to ἡ νόησις, Longin. 30; φ. τόποι expressive, Id. 32.6; pp. δύναμις Ael. V. Η. 3.13 of per- sons, eloguent, Diog. L. 5. 65 :—r0 op. power of speaking, Plut. 2. 909 A. φραστύς, vos, 7, reflection, as opp. to ἀφραστύς, Hesych. φράστωρ, opos, ὃ, -εφραστήρ, a guide, only in Aesch. Supp. 493.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  Sais, δαΐδος, Att. contr. 54s, δᾳδός, 7: (δαίω a, to kindle) :—a fire- . h brand, pine-torch, Lat. taeda, δαΐδων ὑπὸ λαμπομενάων 1]. 18. 492; δαΐδας μετὰ χερσὶν ἔχοντας Od. 7. 101; δᾷδες -- λαμπάδες, Philyll. Incert. 7; ἀραμένη δαΐδας Ο. 1. 2388.8; ἔλαχον μυστιπόλους ὃ.. of a Sadovxds, | Epigr. Gr. 822.8; insing., Ar. Nub. 1494, Antiph. Σκυθ. 1, Incert. 20 :— 5 metaph., ἐπὶ τὴν δᾷδα προελθεῖν to come to the funeral-torch, i.e. end ὦ of life, Plut. 2. 789 A (as Propert. 4. 12, 46, viximus insignes inter utram= | que facem). 2. as collective noun, pine-wood, such as torches were made of, Thuc. 7. 53, Xen. Cyr. 7. 5, 23, Arist. Color. I, 11. 3. a disease in trees, like Lat. taeda, Theophr. H. P. 3.9, 5; cf. ἐνδᾳδόομαι. Sais (Saiw A, to kindle), war, battle, mostly in apoc. dat. dai, as always in Hom., 6. g. Il. 13. 286; so in Hes. Th. 650, Aesch. Theb. 926; acc, δάϊν, Call. Fr. 243. Salts, δαιτός, ἡ, (δαίω B, to divide), a meal, feast, banquet, often in Hom., who calls the usual meal δαὶς ἐΐση, equally divided, because each guest got his share, Il. 15. 95, etc.; δαὶς πίειρα a sumptuous banquet, 19.179: a sacrificial feast, 24. 69; δαῖτα θαλείην Hom. ap. Arist. Pol. 8. 3,8; Θυέστου δαῖτα παιδείων κρεῶν the feast of Th. on.., Aesch. Ag. 1242, cf. 1593 :—also in pl., Od. 20. 182, Aesch. Cho. 483: —used even of beasts of prey, Il. 24. 43; [τούτοις] παρέξω Saiz’, ad’ ὧν ἐφερβόμην Soph. Ph. 957. 2. of the meat or food itself, Eur. Cycl. 245, cf. Od. 18. 279.—Also in Trag., but rare in Prose, as Hdt. 1. 133., 2. II, Plat. Phaedr. 247 A, Symp. 174 B. δαισθείς, v. sub δαίω A. Δαίσιος, 6, a Maced. month, answering to Att. Thargelion, Plut. Alex. 16, cf. Camill. Ig: at Sicyon, it answered to Anthesterion, Id. Arat. 53. δᾶϊ-σφαλτος, ov, in which one is overthrown, πάλη Lyc. 170. δαιταλάομαι, Dep. to feast, Lyc. 654. δαιταλεύς, éws, 6, (δαίνυμι) a bangueter, ἄκλητος 6., of the eagle eating Prometheus’ liver, Aesch. Pr. 1024; Δαιταλεῖς, a play by Aristophanes. Sattad-oupyia, 7, cookery, Lyc. 199. δαίτη. 7, poet. for dais, a feast, banquet, 1]. 20. 217; of beasts, Opp. H. 2: 251: Nic:-Al-. 380: δϑαίτηθεν, Adv. from a feast, Od. το, 216, Theocr. 17. 28. δαῖτις, v. sub δέτις. δαιτρεία, 7, a place where meat is cut up, Hdn. Epim. p. 19. δαιτρεύω, (Sartpds) to divide, esp. to cut up meat, δαιτρεῦσαί τε καὶ ὀπτῆσαι to cut up and roast it, Od. 15. 323; ἂν δὲ .. ἵστατο δαιτρεύσων to carve, 14. 433; τὰ δ᾽ ἀλλ᾽ ἐς δῆμον ἔδωκε δαιτρεύειν to cut up for δαιτρόν — δακτύλιος. distribution among the people, Il. 11. 703, cf. 687; ἵππους δαίτρευον, of the Amazons, Ap. Rh. 2. 1176:—Med. in Opp. H. 2. 606. δαιτρόν, τό, (Saiw) one’s portion, δαιτρὸν πίνειν Il. 4. 262.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  ἐλλοχίζω, to lie in ambush, Eur. Bacch. 725. IL. to lie in wait for .., τινά Plut. Philop. 14. ἔλλοψ, οπος, mute, always epith. of fish, ἔλλοπας ἰχθῦς Hes. Sc. 212 (called ἄναυδοι by Aesch. Pers. 578); ἔλλοπος μυνδοῦ δίκαν Lyc. 1375: —also ἔλλοπος, Emped. 12 (with many v. Il.):—also ἐλλός, ἐλλοῖς ix- θύσιν Soph. Aj. 1279; ἰχθύες ἐλλοί Poéta ap. Ath. 277 Ὁ. 1Π|} δῷ Subst., ἔλλοψ, 6, a mute one, a δα, Nic. Al. 481, Lyc. 598; also fem., Lyc. 796. 2. an unknown sea-fish, Arist. H. A. 2. ΠΤ ΘΟ ΤΟΣ ΤΑ, Ath., etc.; also written ἔλοψ, Epich. 48 Ahr., Matro ap. Ath. 136 D; and (of a serpent) Nic. Th. 490. ἔλλῦπος, ov, in grief, mournful, Plut. 2. 621 A. ἐλλύτης, Dor. -as, 5, a kind of cake, Inscr. Ther. in Ο. 1. 2448. v. fin., Hesych. s. v. ἐλλυχνιάζομαι, Pass. to have a wick, Diosc. 1. 97. 457 ἐλλύχνιον, τό, a lamp-wick, Hdt. 2. 62, Hipp. 569. 55.» 670. 44: the Att. word is θρυαλλίς. ἐλλυχνιωτός, 7, dv, made of wick-cotton, μότος Medic. ἐλλωβάομαι, Dep. to commit an outrage, εἴς τινα Anton. Lib, 11. “EdAwrtia or Ἕλλωτίς, δος, ἡ, epith. of Athena, Schol. Pind. τὰ ᾿Ἑλλώτια (sc, ἱερά) her festival at Corinth, Pind. O. 13. 57. ἑλμινθιάω, (EApws) to suffer from worms, Arist. H. A. 9. 6, 8. ἑλμίνθιον, τό, Dim. of ἕλμινς, a little worm, Arist. H. A. 6. 16, 3. ἑλμινθώδης, ες, (εἶδος) like a worm, Arist. H. A. 4. 11, 4. ἕλμινς, wOos, ἡ, dat. pl. ἕλμινσι : also a nom. Apts, Arist. H. A. 8. 20, 2, nom. pl. €Apecs Diosc. Parab. 2.67, dat. ἕλμισι Opp. H. 3. 180 :—also a gen. €Apuyyos (as if from ἕλμιγξ), dub. in Hipp. Epid. 1.987, 989 (where the Mss. vary), and the compd. ἑλμιγγοβότανον in the author of the Orneosophium ; whereas ἑλμινθοβότανον is cited from Alex. Trall. A worm: I. a maw-worm, intestinal-worm, Lat. lumbricus; either fiat (πλατεῖα), Lat. taenia, or round (στρογγύλη), Hipp. 511. 19 sqq., cf. Progn. 40, Aph. 1248, Arist. H. A. 5. 19, 4 (where he adds ἀσκαρίδες as a third kind). II. a parasitic worm in sponges, Ib. 5. 16, 6 :— worms in snow, Id. Plant. 2. 3, 9. (The Root remains uncertain: v. Curt. Gr. Et. p. 504.) ἑλξίνη [τ], ἡ, (€Anw) a plant with wooly capsules, perhaps parietaria or urceolaris, Diosc. 4. 39, 86. ἕλξιβ, ews, ἡ, (ἕλκω) a drawing, dragging, trailing, τὰς “Ἕκτορος ἕλξεις Plat. Rep. 391 B; ἱματίων ἕλξις (v. ἕλκω τ. 2), Id. Alc. 1. 122 C. 2. attraction, Id. Tim. 80 C. 3. a drawing of the bow, Philostr. 717. 4. a draught, Paul. Sil. Therm. 82. ἕλοιμι, ἑλοίμην, ἕλον, ἑλόμην, v. sub αἱρέω. ἑλο-νόμος, ον, dwelling in marshes, Hipp. 358. 15.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  éfavtAéw, to draw or pump out water, Plat. Legg. 736 B: Pass., Arist. H. A. 6.16, 2: v. sub ἐπαντλέω. 2. metaph. to endure to the end, see out, Lat. exantlare, exhaurire, ἐκείνων μείζον᾽ ἐξ. πόνον Eur. Cycl. 10; τὸν αὐτὸν δαίμον᾽ ἐξ. ἐμοί Ib. 110; τὸν αὐτὸν ἐξ. βίον Id. Fr. 456; βίον οἰκτρὸν ἐξ. Menand. ᾽Ασπ. 5; for Eur. Supp. 838, v. Dind. 3. to empty out, Heliod. 1. 3: to rob, plunder, Luc. Timo 17: to squander, Alciphro 1. 21. ἐξάντλημα, τό, a bath or fomentation, Aretae. Cur. M. Diut. 2. 12. ἐξαντλητέον, verb. Adj. one must bathe or foment, Antyll. ap. Orib. ἐξάνῦσις, ews, ἡ, completion, Eust. Opusc. 278. 9. ἐξανύω, Att. -ανύτω: fut. vow [0] :—to accomplish, make effectual, Lat. conficere, Θέτιδος δ᾽ ἐξήνυσε βουλάς 1]. 8. 370; θεῶν θέσμι᾽ ἐξήνυσε Soph, Aj. 712; ἔμελλες ἐξανύσειν κακὰν μοῖραν Ib. 926 ; Th μοι ἐξανύ- σεις χρέος ; Id. O. T.156; πάθεα Eur. lon 1066 :—Med. fo accomplish 4 Opp. to midnots, Philo 1. 385. ἐξάνθημα --- ἐξάπλωσις. 495 or finish for oneself, κακῶν μῆχος Id. Andr. 536; τέκνοις τάφον Id. Supp. 285. 2. to finish or dispatch, i.e, kill, Lat. conficere, ἢ Onv σ᾽ e€avuw Il. 11. 365., 20. 452; cf. Eur. H. F.1273. 3. of Time and Distance, fo bring to an end, finish, accomplish, βίοτον Soph. Tr.. 1022; ἁμέραν τάνδε Eur. Med. 649; δρόμον, ἴχνος, πόρον ἐξ. Id. Phoen. 164, Tro. 232, I. T. 897 :—absol. (like ἀνύω I. 3), to finish one’s way to a place, arrive at it, és or ἐπὶ τόπον Hdt. 6. 139., 7. 183; also c. acc. loci, ἐξανύσαι .. νεκρῶν πλάκα (so Vauvill. for ἐκτανύσαι) Soph. O. C. 1562; πόλον ἐξανύσας Eur. Or. 1685. 4. c. inf. to manage to do, accomplish the doing, Lat. efficere ut .., ἐξ. κρατεῖν Id. Hipp. 400. 5. Med. 20 obtain, borrow, τι mapa τινος Id. Bacch. 131, cf. ἀνύω 1. 5. ἐξαπαείρω, to carry away, Philox. 2. 40. ἐξαπαυτέω, strengthd. for dmarréw, Julian. 349 B. ἐξᾶ-πάλαιστος, ov, of six hands-breadth, Hdt. 1. 50., 2. 149. ἐξαπαλλάσσω, Att. -trw, to set free from, remove from, τινὰ κακῶν, τινὰ Cons Eur. 1. A. 1004, Hec. 1108 :—Pass. to get rid of, escape from, κακῶν ἐξαπαλλαχθείς Hdt. 5. 4; ἄλυπος ἄτης ἐξαπαλλαχθήσεται Soph. El. 1002 (where ἄτης depends upon ἄλυπος) ; τῶν εἰρημένων ἀπαλλαγῆ- ναι to escape from his own words, and Κλέωνος ἀπαλλαγήσεσθαι will get rid of Cl., both in Thuc. 4. 28. ἐξαπαντάω, to meet, v. 1. Xen. Cyr. 3. 3, 24. ἐξαπαρτάομαιυ, Pass. to hang from or on, Luc. V. H.1. 9.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  ἰᾶχή, ἡ, (iaxw) a cry, shout, in Il. both of the victor and the van- quished, 5. 399, etc.: a wail, shriek, Od. 11. 43; also a joyous sound, ἰαχὰ ὑμεναίων Pind. P. 3 3. 29, cf. Theogn. 777; κροτάλων τυπάνων Teh. Hom. 13.3; αὐλῶν Podta ap. Plut. 2. 1104 E; and in Trag. mostly of joyful shouts, as Eur. Tro. 337, Bacch. 149, I. A. 1039; but πολύδακρυς é. Aesch. Pers. 939, cf. also Eur. El. 143, Phoen. 1302.—In Hom. it takes the digamma, γένετο Frax7 Il. 4. 456; ὑπὸ βξιαχῆς 15. 275, cf. 16. 373, etc.; nor does he ever elide a vowel before 1, though it is otherwise in ἢ, Hom. 13. 3, Hes. Th. 708, Sc. 404.—The Trag. use it only in lyric passages; and where the penult. is long 8; as in Aesch. Pers. 939, Eur. El. 143, Tro. 337, I. A. 1039, the form taxy7 was restored by Pors.; v. sub iaxéw :—in Eur. Med. 147 and elsewhere iayd is an error for ἀχά, a Dor. form of ἡ ἠχή, 4. ν. ἰάχημα, τό, (ἰἄχέων a cry, shout: the hissing of a serpent, Eur. H. F. 883: the sound of an instrument, Anth. P. 6. 165. Cf. ἤχημα. ἴαχος, ὃ, τ ἰαχή, dub, ap. Orph. 48. 3. taxpos 11], όν, melted, softened: metaph. at ease, tranguil, Hesych.: akin to iaivw, q.v. idx [ἄ, v. sub fin.]: Ion, impf. ἐ ἰάχεσπε, Hes. Sc. 232: pf. taxa. To cry, shout, ἰάχοντες ἐπεσσύμεθ᾽ Od. 4. 454, etc. ; of battle-shouts, ᾿Αργεῖοι δὲ μέγ᾽ ἴαχον Il. 17. 317; σμερδαλέα ἰάχων το. 41, Od. 22. 81; of a frightened child, zo shriek, πρὸς κόλπον .. τιθήνης ἐκλίνθη ἰάχων Il. 6. 468; so of one in pain or alarm, μέγα ἰάχουσα 5: 343, Od. 10. 328; of slaves bewailing, 5uwal.. θυμὸν ἀκηχεμέναι μεγάλ᾽ ἴαχον Il. 18. 29; sometimes of articulate speech, Eur. El. 707, Ap. Rh. 4. 581, 592, Anth, P. 5. 299. i 2. of things, y2 692

• From Vision Quest (1979)

  And it scared me because I had been talking about how I learned to heat canned food on the exhaust manifolds of the trucks and dozers at the Trapper Peak forest fire and wasn’t paying much attention to my driving. The little doe lay in the ditch in front of us crying and kicking the two legs that weren’t broken. People think deer don’t make sounds, but they do. They sort of whistle. Her eyes were wild and she shook her head from side to side and tried to get up. The hide was barked on her face and shoulder, but aside from that she looked okay. Except for her two right legs, which only swept a little gravel, no matter how she thrashed away. “Poor little deer,” I said. I don’t mind killing animals—to eat, for example. But I sure can hardly stand to see them suffer, or people either. Carla didn’t know much about deer, or at least not wild deer, so when she went close to pet her and comfort her a little, the doe kicked out with a good leg and raked Carla’s arm. She yelled and jumped back in surprise and then got another surprise when she looked down and saw her shirt torn and her arm bleeding. Deer hooves are very sharp and not all that clean. I sat Carla down on the running board and looked at her arm. I had to get a flashlight to see. The cut was shallow, but about an inch wide. The skin was ripped down the inside of her arm from her elbow to the middle of her forearm. A four-inch flap of it hung in her shirtsleeve. “I just wanted to pet it,” Carla said. “I know,” I said. “Me, too. But she can’t know.” “Isn’t there some way we can help her?” Carla asked. “She’s crying.” I cut Carla’s sleeve off with my hunting knife and pulled the skin flap back over the cut and wrapped her arm in gauze. “I’d like to wash this,” I said, not answering her question. “But all we have is Gatorade.” “And you’re saving it to drink,” she replied. “Damn right,” I said. “Can’t we keep her from suffering?” Carla asked. “I’m gonna shoot her.” “But she only has broken legs. And she’s a deer, not a racehorse.” “I know,” I said. “But she’ll starve. Somebody’ll come along and shoot her anyway.” “You don’t have a gun,” Carla said. “It’s in my bag.” “Please do it now, then,” she said. “It’s awful to hurt alone.” So I got the Luger and walked behind the deer and shot her once through the back of the head. She shook with the impact of the bullet, but then she went still and didn’t twitch at all. The shot rang and rang in my ears, that gun is so loud.

• From A Greek-English Lexicon (Liddell-Scott) (1957)

  κλαυσί-μᾶχος, ον, found with βουλόμαχος in Ar. Pax 1293, Rue-the- fight, as a parody on the name of Lamachus (Ready-for-jight). κλαύσιμος, 7, ov, plaintive, Gloss. κλαύσομαι, fut. of κλαίω, Dor. κλαυσοῦμαι. κλαυστήρ, ἦρος, 6, a weeper, Manetho 4. 192. κλαυστικός, 9, dv, given to mourning, Schol. Ar. Thesm. 1056. Adv., κλαυστικῶς ἔχειν Apollon. Lex. 5. ν. ὀψείοντες. κλαυστός or κλαυτός, 77, dv, (κλαίω) wept, bewailed: to be bewailed, mournful, Aesch. Theb. 333, Soph. O. Ὁ. 1360.—xAaurés is the older form, v. ἄκλαυτος, κέλευσμα. κλάω [ἃ]: impf. ἔκλων (kar—) Il. 20. 227, (ἀν--) Thuc. 2. 76: fut. πλάσω [ἃ] Luc.: aor. I ἔκλᾶσα, Ep. ελάσε Il., κλάσσε Theocr. :—Med., fut. (v. dvaxAdw): Ep. aor. κλάσσατο Anth. P. 7.124:—Pass., fut. κλα- σθήσομαι (ava—) Arist. Meteor. 5. 6, 6: aor. ἐκλάσθην Il.: pf. κέκλασμαι Hipp., etc.: part. aor. 2 #Ads (as if from κλῇμι) Anacr. 16 (amo-), cf. Eust. 1654. 12. To break, break off or in pieces, ἐξ ὕλης πτόρθον κλάσε Od. 6. 128 ; ἐκλάσθη δὲ δόναξ 1]. 11. 584:—esp. to break off the luxuriant shoots of the vine (cf. eAadevw, κλάσις, etc.), Theophr. C. P. 1.15, 1, Longus 3. 29, etc.:—often in pf. pass. part. κεκλασμένος, broken, bent, καμπαῖς κεκλασμένας ὑποπορεύσεις Plut. 2. 968 B; κ. στολίδες Ib. 64. A; τὰ κλώμενα τῶν ῥευμάτων their broken courses, Ib. 747 Ὁ, etc. 2. of geom. lines, Pass. to be broken or deflected, Arist. An. Post. I. 10, 3, al.; % κεκλασμένη (sc. γραμμή) Id. Phys. 5. 4, 15, de An. 3. 4, 93 so, of the visual rays, Id. Meteor. 3. 6, 4, Probl. 15. Τ2 ΤῈ ~ 8. metaph. fo break, weaken, frustrate, τὴν ἐλπίδα Joseph. B. J. 3. 7, 13 :—in pf. pass. part., κεκλασμένη φωνή a weak, effeminate voice, Hipp. 1229 E, Arist. Physiogn. 6, 50; κεκλ. ὀφθαλμοί Ib. 3, 8; κεκὰλ. μέλη Plut. 2. 1138 C; κεκλ. ῥυθμός Longin. 40; κεκλασμένος μέθῃ Plut. 2. 596 C: cf. κλαδαρός. κλάω [ἃ], Att. for κλαίω, fo weep, as κάω for καίω; v. sub κλαίω. κλεαινός, 7, dv, in Hesych. corrupt for κλεεννός. κλέβδην, Dor. -δαν, Adv. by stealth, Lat. clam, A. B. 611, E. M. 103. κλεεννός or κλεεινός, 7), dv, a lyr. form of «Aewds, famous, Simon. 121, Pind. P. 4. 499., 5. 25, 800]. ap. Ath. 694 Ὁ, Socrat. in Bgk. Lyr. p. 442. κλεηδών, dvos, 6, Ion. and Ep. for κλῃδών, 4.ν. κλεῖα, poét. contr. from κχλέεα, pl. of κλέος, Hes. i κλειδίον, τό, Dim. of κλείς, a little key, κλειδία .. Λακωνίκ᾽ ἄττα. τρεῖς ἔχοντα γομφίους Ar, Thesm. 421, cf. ἜΣ. 120; πὸ πὰ: τοῦ οἰκήματος Arist. Mirab. 32. II. v. sub κλείς 111. 111. a pill, Galen. κλειδο-ποιός, dv, making keys, Paul. Alex. Apotel. p. 58. 12. & κλειδουχέω, Att. KAQS-, ἐο be a κλειδοῦχος, KA. θεᾶς fo be her priestess, 812

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Why did it take Luther so long, when so many of his associates had gone to the altar years before? Bartholomäus Bernhardi had married in August 1521. In Luther’s immediate circle, Karlstadt followed later that year, and Justus Jonas in February 1522: 15 Johannes Bugenhagen, a more recent arrival in Wittenberg, married on October 13, 1522; Wenzeslaus Linck, the vicar general of the Augustinian order, on April 15, 1523; 16 and Johannes Lang had tied the knot by 1524. Just about all Luther’s old comrades, apart from Spalatin and Amsdorf, were now married men. It seems that the end of the Peasants’ War and the death of Friedrich the Wise marked a point of transition. Karlstadt and he had now moved into a settled enmity. And then there was the death, in late 1524, of his old confessor. In his last letters, Johann von Staupitz had written of his love for his former protégé, “surpassing that of women.” 17 As monks, nuns, and priests broke their vows by marrying, he castigated Luther for letting fleshly lusts have their sway under the cover of the gospel—this was not what he had meant by Gelassenheit . Although he sent Luther a young monk to be instructed in the ways of the gospel—a sign of his trust—he clearly saw Luther as having chosen a different path. For his part, Luther was still raw from Staupitz’s decision to leave the Augustinians for, of all things, a fat prebend as a Benedictine abbot. Indeed, when the news came of Staupitz’s death, Luther commented waspishly that the old man had had little time to enjoy his plum posting. There is no doubt that Staupitz would have been appalled by Luther’s marriage, and to a nun—a double violation of oaths of chastity. Perhaps it was only when Staupitz had died that Luther, freed from the man who had been his spiritual father, finally felt able to become a father. 18 The delay was also connected with deep changes within Luther himself. It took several years for him to accept that he, too, had fleshly desires. He had always claimed that continence was not his problem as a monk—the “real knots” were to do with salvation. Nor had he greeted the first marriages of priests with unalloyed joy, but rather had fretted that Bernhardi, the first evangelical priest to marry, would be expelled and then “two stomachs” along with “anything that came out of them” (Luther was referring darkly to children) would suffer want. 19 Indeed, Luther’s conviction of the pervasiveness of sin had remarkably little to do with a sense of sexual frustration. Although by 1520 he had advocated that priests should be allowed to marry, he did not at first think that monks were in the same situation, as they had taken vows of chastity of their own free will and could not therefore break them.