I am no longer consumed with the idea that greatness is necessarily honorable. Earlier, I was convinced that I was the greatest, that I was better than everyone. After all, I “won complete prosperity and happiness” and I “destroyed the Sphinx,” so I thought I deserved to boss people around. I believed that my achievements made me high and mighty and that everyone needs to bow down to me. That was all before. Before I realized how blinded I was by my arrogance. I believed myself to be greater than Apollo and all the people in the land, while the whole time, I was “an incestuous breed of father, brother, son” (77). My arrogance always got the best of me, and often times I would torture people to get what I wanted. Most of my arrogance was sparked by the citizens of the town, who recognized and congratulated me for ridding them of the plague by making me king. However great this seemed, I learned in time that it was the worst thing I have ever done. Marry my mother. I lived a decent life before leaving my parents, Polybus and Merope. “I was regarded as the greatest man in my city” and I would have stayed that way if it weren’t for a drunken man at a party who told me that they weren’t my real parents. I would have been okay, if I heard it from them first, but to hear it from a stranger at a banquet? Unbelievable. So I left and ended up married to my mother. I assumed that Polybus died of wishing to see me, and if I weren’t so overcome with my power, I would have noticed