Book: The gates of fire

The opposite of fear is love.

- ... not all invisible noble. Low feelings too. Fear and greed, and lust. What you say about them?
"Yes," admitted the Suicide, but aren't they feeling low? They stink to high heaven, they became sick at heart. Noble invisible feelings felt differently. They like music where the higher notes, so they are cleaner.

When I first came to Lacedaemon and they called me Suicidal, I hated that nickname. But over time, I realized his wisdom, though not intentional. What could be nobler than to kill yourself? Not literally. Not a blade in the belly. And to extinguish in himself the ego, to kill that part of me which thinks only of self-preservation, about saving their own skins.

Thoughts of a warrior just before the battle, as often seen my master (always called himself a researcher of fear), followed by a unchanged way. There is always a pause, often only one beat of the heart, when the inner eye opens the following tripartite vision, usually in the same order: first in my heart there favorite person that isn't shared with the warrior immediate danger, the wife and mother, children, especially daughters, especially if very young. The faces of those who remain under the sun and will keep in his heart the memory of him, a warrior sees with tenderness and compassion. He sends his love and goodbyes.

All that people need is to live. To live above all: to cling to the breath. To survive.

Dogs in a pack find courage to attack a lion. Every dog knows its place. She is afraid the dog is most important and inspires fear of the dog below him. Fear conquers fear.

Leonid ordered to erect a real fortress wall.
There was a funny scene when the builders of the Union militia gathered in solemn Council to inspect the site and propose architectural alternatives. To illuminate the Gorge, brought torches on the earth sketched sketches. One of the Corinthian commanders created a drawing in the correct scale. Now the bosses began to argue. Wall be built right in the Gorge below her block. No, I suggested other, better to take her two plethra ago, creating a "triangle of death" between the rocks and ramparts. The third head tried to convince her to move the wall twice as far to release allied infantry space to focus and maneuver. Meanwhile, next to the loitering soldiers, left and right handing out wise advice and wishes, as it is like the Greeks.
Leonid just took the stone, went to the first available place, and there he put. Then took a second and put it next to the first. The rest stared blankly as their commander-in-chief, who was well over sixty, bent behind the third stone. Someone barked: "How many times are you idiots going to stand there, mouth Agape? Wait until morning when your king is not to build the wall himself?"

The gods make us love not those who should, and revenge to those whom we love. They kill those who should live, and save those who must die. They give with one hand and take away other, responsible only to their incomprehensible laws.

Male pain easy comes and quickly goes. Our wounds are physical, and they are insignificant. Wounds women the wounds of the heart, it is endless sorrow, carry that much more bitter.

Pick up from the curb a sharp stick and poke your eye, buddy. From this you will not see better than it is now.

Courage is the same Dieneke was different. It was the dignity of MAN, capable of mistakes of MORTAL who displays courage from the understanding of his heart by the power of some internal integrity, unknown Polinico.

I wish you Callisto to survive as many battles in reality, how many of you have already experienced in the imagination. Perhaps, then, you've had enough of human humility not to set himself a demigod as of now.

I told you about the baby that was in Clare with my father? This goose made a habit of, gods only know why, before you flop into the water along with his brothers and sisters, three times to peck a certain piece of turf. As a boy I marveled at it. Goose used to do that every time. Definitely. One day it occurred to me to stop her. Just to see what she'll do. I took a position on the same piece of turf - I was five, no more - and don't let this goose. She was freaking out. Pounced on me and began to beat its wings, pecking at me to the blood. And I shamefully like a rat, and fled. And the goose immediately calmed down. It three times I ate your piece of turf and slipped into the water, happy as is possible. Habit is a mighty ally, my young friend. The habit of fear and anger or the habit of self-control and courage.

Remember what I told you about the house with many rooms. There are rooms in which we should not enter. Anger. Fear. Any passion that leads us to the "obsession" that's killing people in the war. Habit is a winner. When accustom the mind to think only in that way, when you do not allow him to think differently, it generates great power in battle.