Death Was The Price Of Life.

At The Stair-foot Hephaistion Was Waiting. He Happened To Be There, As He Happened To Have A Ball Handy If Alexander Wanted A Game, Or Water If He Was Thirsty; Not By Calculation, But In A Constant Awareness By Which No Smallest Trifle Was Missed. Now, When He Came Down The Stairs With A Shut Mouth And Blue Lines Under His Eyes, Hephaistion Received Some Mute Signal He Understood, And Fell Into Step Beside Him.

One Might Have Supposed That The True Act Of Love Was To Lie Together And Talk.

Alexander, Of Whom Men Tell Many Legends, Lived By His Own. Achilles Must Have Patroklos. He Might Love His Briseis; But Patroklos Was The Friend Till Death. At Their Tombs In Troy, Alexander And Hephaistion Had Sacrificed Together. Wound Patroklos, And Achilles Will Have Your Blood.

Never Destroy Without Thought Your Enemy's Pretences; They Are Usually Your Best Weapon Against Him.

Often Beauty Grows Dull Or Common When Speech Breaks The Mask.