Father and son you might liken to caterpillars and locusts, for what was left by Robert, his son fed on and devoured.

— Anna Comnena

βρούχους ἄντικρυς καὶ ἀκρίδας εἶπεν ἄν τις αὐτούς, τὸν πατέρα καὶ τὸν υἱόν· τὰ γὰρ κατάλοιπα Ῥομπέρτου ὁ τούτου υἱὸς Βαϊμοῦντος προσεπενείματο καὶ κατέφαγεν.

Original text (Ancient Greek)

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One such was that braggart Robert, notorious for his power-lust, born in Normandy, but nursed and nourished by manifold Evil.

The general knew, I think, that the opposition is strong when the whole body is welded together and of one mind; but let there be faction, and it splits up into many parts and becomes feebler, an easy prey to its enemies.

Constantine was Nature's masterpiece, a triumph, as it were, of God's handiwork. One look at him would convince anyone that here was a descendant of the mythical Golden Age of the Greeks, so infinite was his charm.

I, having realized the effects wrought by Time, desire now by means of my writings to give an account of my father's deeds, which do not deserve to be consigned to Forgetfulness nor to be swept away on the flood of Time into an ocean of Non-Remembrance.

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Father and son you might liken to caterpillars and locusts, for what was left by Robert, his son fed on and devoured.

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