Ἄτθι, σοὶ δ’ ἔμɛθɛν μὲν ἀπήχθɛτο φροντίσδην, ἐπὶ δ’ Ἀνδρομέδαν πόται Atthis, your care for me stirred hatred in you and you flew to Andromeda. (LP, fr. 131) Who ever desires what is not gone? No one. The Greeks were clear on this. They invented eros to express it.
