...she traced her own birth back
to a proud Athenian line and the high gods
and off in caverns half the world away,
born of the wild North Wind
she sprang on her father's gales,
racing stallions up the leaping cliffs -
child of the heavens. But even on her the Fates
the gray everlasting Fates rode hard
my child, my child.

-Sophocles, Antigone, trans. Fagles