Grab reality by the balls and squeeze.

These warriors of the Sacred Band were inscrutable; they loved their war and death and picking through the bones of time to sort out right from wrong, good from bad, holy from profane, honor from dishonor.

And as for death - we get what we expect.

For me, myth is the 'common' language of us all.

For the gift of life, the only true thanks was in living fully, and facing death with honor.

Why is it we are always the targets of the angry Fates? Twice as many men of ours met harm as did theirs, since we've come here.

"Dreamers and dreaming dead, lots of them from neither here nor there with no chance of getting home again, lost in place and time.