This fight coming is not a battle of weapons, but a battle of wills.

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

Shed your mortal skin and let me take you beneath the waves.

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.

Die never for a god, Nikodemos who should know better - not your soldiers' god, nor any other.

Haste breeds error; error breeds woe.

"Godling? Demigod?" Lysis nearly howled. "You'd be beaten black and blue in Thebes, and staked out overnight for claims like that. In Sparta, the secret police would ambush you, violate you, skin you alive and use your skull for a drinking cup."