This is as 'alone' as I'm likely to get with you - you're not half so fetching as your daughter.

Some nights, one wants to tell beloveds everything that's been waiting to be said. Some nights, a man needs flesh and blood and warm breath and a loving heart.

Men live, and then they die. It is the quality of the process of living which matters, that and that alone.

You must become like yourself.

Nothing walks the earth more savage than a mare enraged.

And what do the Theban hoplites see in this extended rending of the sky, this white-bright glory of Enlil's lightning? The future, but not theirs: paired cavalry fighters; formed ranks of armored death; grim men on their tall horses with lightning limning weapons tailored to the task; men spoiling for a fight if the gods allowed - the Sacred Band of Stepsons, out from shadows and the dark.

Such hubris could only come from a man's mouth.