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.

I thought we'd die there, quarrels in our backs, you for what you did and me for bearing witness.

What is needed is never to be had without price.

Valor was in Nikodemos, unquestionable, and commitment like trees to stand or night to fall.

Wars don't bring lasting peace, only lasting death.

There must be love, and understanding, to betray. Most men haven't the wit or the honor for betrayal: not to know it when they see it; not the stomach to apprehend it as they do it. Most men, blind and dumb in their self-centeredness, don't betray: they merely disappoint.

Revenge is never the best driver for a battle, but a common one.