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| Robert Delaunay Portuguese Still Life 1915 tempera on canvas Musée Fabre, Montpellier |
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| Adolf Erbslöh Landscape (English Garden) 1916 oil on canvas Galerie Neue Meister (Albertinum), Dresden |
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| Max Liebermann The Garden Bench 1916 oil on canvas Alte Nationalgalerie, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin |
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| Thorvald Erichsen View from a Window 1917 oil on canvas Lillehammer Kunstmuseum, Norway |
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| Claude Monet Corner of the Lake at Giverny 1917 oil on canvas Musée de Grenoble |
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| Svante Bergh Fisher Lad 1918 oil on canvas Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Edvard Munch Self Portrait with Influenza 1919 oil on canvas Museum Behnhaus, Lübeck |
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| August Babberger Mountain Landscape with the Scheerhorn 1920 oil on canvas Staatliche Kunsthalle, Karlsruhe |
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| Anton Kolig The Protest 1920 oil on canvas Belvedere Museum, Vienna |
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| Helmuth Macke Portrait of Grete Hagemann 1920 oil on canvas Museum Penzberg, Germany |
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| Karl Isakson Raising of Lazarus 1921 oil on canvas Moderna Museet, Stockholm |
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| Hendrik Nicolaas Werkman Sunflowers 1921 oil on canvas Groninger Museum, Netherlands |
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| John Singer Sargent Portrait of Jacques-Émile Blanche 1922 oil on canvas Musée des Beaux-Arts de Rouen |
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| Lovis Corinth Birth of Venus 1923 oil on cardboard Ostdeutsche Galerie, Regensburg |
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| Carl Kylberg Self Portrait 1924 oil on canvas Göteborgs Konstmuseum, Sweden |
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| Julo Levin Stettin Harbor 1929 oil on cardboard Ostdeutsche Galerie, Regensburg |
[A Messenger enters from the direction of the battlefield]
Messenger: Have no fear, you daughters born of noble Cadmean mothers: this city has escaped the yoke of slavery. The boasts of mighty men have fallen to the ground, and as in fair weather, so too when much buffeted by the waves, the city has let no water into her hull. The wall has held, and the champions with whom we reinforced the gates proved reliable in single combat. Things are well for the most part – at six gates; but at the Seventh the victor was the awesome Master of Sevens, Lord Apollo, wreaking the consequences of Laius' old act of unwisdom upon the offspring of Oedipus.
Chorus: What further untoward thing has happened to the city?
Messenger: The men have died at each other's hands.
Chorus: Who? Who are you saying? Your words are frightening me out of my mind.
Messenger: Collect yourself, and listen. The sons of Oedipus –
Chorus: Ah, wretched me! I can foresee the worst!
Messenger: They killed each other with hands that all too truly shared the same blood. Thus the controlling power was one and the same for both, and he has himself utterly destroyed that ill-fated family. Such are the things we have to rejoice and to weep over: the city is faring well, but its chiefs, the leaders of the two armies, have had the whole possession of their inheritance divided between them by hammered Scythian iron; they will have so much of the land as they will take in burial, having been swept away to an evil fate in accordance with their father's curse.
[He departs]
– Aeschylus, from Seven Against Thebes (467 BC), translated by Alan H. Sommerstein (2008)