Leonidas Quotes

Kami ini dua yang menjadi satu. Satu yang terdiri dari dua. Aku tak tega membiarkanmu mencintaiku, karena dengan begitu, kau harus bisa mencintai sisi jahatku – dan sisi jahatku itu sangat sulit untuk dicintai" ~Darren Leonidas

Leonida: Spartani! Preparate una colazione abbondante, perché stasera ceneremo all'inferno! Spartano: Forse sarà meglio prenotare.

Hydarnes: When we attack today, our arrows will blot out the sun! Leonidas: Good; then we will fight in the shade.

Give them nothing, but take from them everything.

Xerxes: It isn't wise to stand against me, Leonidas. Imagine what horrible fate awaits my enemies when I would gladly kill any of my own men for victory. King Leonidas: And I would die for any one of mine.

And I would die for any one of mine.

Now I’ve officially seen everything.” Leonidas muttered. “How often do you see them?” Ari laughed weakly. “Do nightmares count?” Leonidas bent down to look in her eyes. “Nightmares always count.

None of us have a real name, Leonidas, just names we like and names people give us.

It was natural for [Spartan women] to think and speak as Gorgo, the wife of Leonidas, is said to have done, when some foreign lady, as it would seem, told her that the women of Lacedaemon were the only women of the world who could rule men; 'With good reason,' she said, 'for we are the only women who bring forth men'.

Come and take them

Civil war... What did the words mean? Was there any such thing as 'foreign war'? Was not all warfare between men warfare between brothers? Wars could only be defined by their aims. There were no 'foreign' or 'civil' wars, only wars that were just or unjust. Until the great universal concord could be arrived at, warfare, at least when it was the battle between the urgent future and the dragging past, might be unavoidable. How could such a war be condemned? War is not shameful, nor the sword-thrust a stab in the back, except when it serves to kill right and progress, reason, civilization, and truth. When this is war's purpose it maeks no difference whether it is civil or foreign war - it is a crime. Outside the sacred cause for justice, what grounds has one kind of war for denigrating another? By what right does the sword of Washington despise the pike of Camille Desmoulins? Which is the greater - Leonidas fighting the foreign enemy or Timoleon slaying the tyrant who was his brother? One was a defender, the other a liberator. Are we to condemn every resort to arms that takes place within the citadel, without concerning ourselves with its aim?

ΜΟΛΩΝ ΛΑΒΕ

Aren’t you going to tell me your name? I muster up the courage to tease him. You never asked, he replies simply with a shrug of his shoulders. I give him a sarcastic smile. “Well, now, I am.” Tucking his hands in his hoodie pocket, he looks straight ahead. My name is Leo Drakos. Leo is short for Leonidas.

A thousand years from now" Leonidas declared, "two thousand, three thousand years hence, men a hundred generations yet unborn may, for their private purposes, make journey to our country. They will come, scholars perhaps, or travelers from beyond the sea, prompted by curiosity regarding the past, or appetite for knowledge of the ancients. They will peer out across our plain and probe among the stone and rubble of our nation. What will they learn about us? Their shovels will unearth neither brilliant palaces nor temples. Their picks will prize forth no everlasting architecture or art. What will remain of the Spartans? Not monuments of marble or bronze, but this......what we do here, today." Out beyond the narrows, the enemy trumpets sounded.

We learned to say that there was “no alternative” to the basic order of things, a sensibility that the Lithuanian political theorist Leonidas Donskis called “liquid evil.

Xerxes does not want your lives, sir,” Tommie called. “Only your arms.” Leonidas laughed. “Tell him to come and get them.

Leonidas’s and Dienekes’ quips draw the individual out of his private terror and yoke him to the group.

The GRS operators enjoyed repeated showings of the blood-soaked story of fearless King Leonidas and his tiny force of Spartan soldiers, outnumbered ten thousand to one by the Persian army at Thermopylae in 480 BC.

It’s not a threat. It’s simply fact. He is Greek and of a bloodline nearly as old as yours. He is required to be what he was made to be whether he wishes it or not. He swims against the current, Ari. He thinks he can outrun his fate. He cannot. No one can.

The feelings and the memories and the perceptions in me are my own, they are terrible and secret and if I can turn them out, if I can display them on canvas… or even on my skin if I must…” He turned his head and looked at her. “Then they are special. Do you see? I create from my secrets, from the halls in my soul.

On the grave-mound of Leonidas, with its marble lion, he laid a garland. “I don’t think,” he remarked after, “that he was really much of a general. If he’d made sure the Phokian troops understood their orders, the Persians could never have turned the pass. These southern states never work together. But one must honor a man as brave as that.

Leonidas began softly, his voice carrying in the dawn stillness, heard with ease by all. “Shall I tell you where I find this strength, friends? In the eyes of our sons in scarlet before us, yes. And in the countenances of their comrades who will follow in battles to come. But more than that, my heart finds courage from these, our women, who watch in tearless silence as we go.

Some thirty-six years after the death of Leonidas, King Agesilaus of Sparta, as Plutarch recounts, showed that the essential Spartan spirit, which distinguished her citizens from all others in Greece, still had not changed. At that time there was a war between a coalition led by Athens against Sparta and her allies. The latter had been complaining to Agesilaus that it was they who provided the bulk of the army. Agesilaus, accordingly, called a council meeting at which all the Spartan allies sat down on one side and the Spartans on the other. The king then told a herald to proclaim that all the potters among the allies and the Spartans should stand up. After this the herald called on the blacksmiths, the masons, and the carpenters to do likewise; and so he went on through all the crafts and trades. By the end of the herald’s recital almost every single man among the allies had risen to his feet. But not a Spartan had moved. The laws of Lycurgus still obtained. The king laughed and turned to his allies, remarking: ‘You see, my friends, how many more soldiers we send out than you do.’ The whole Spartan attitude is contained in those words.

I'm sure I'll like studying history after this," said Emily; "except Canadian History. I'll never like it--it's so dull. Not just at the first, when we belonged to France and there was plenty of fighting, but after that it's nothing but politics." "The happiest countries, like the happiest women, have no history," said Dean. "I hope I'll have a history," cried Emily. "I want a thrilling career." "We all do, foolish one. Do you know what makes history? Pain--and shame--and rebellion--and bloodshed and heartache. Star, ask yourself how many hearts ached--and broke--to make those crimson and purple pages in history that you find so enthralling. I told you the story of Leonidas and his Spartans the other day. They had mothers, sisters and sweethearts. If they could have fought a bloodless battle at the polls wouldn't it have been better--if not so dramatic.

When a man seats before his eyes the bronze face of his helmet and steps off from the line of departure, he divides himself, as he divides his ‘ticket,’ in two parts. One part he leaves behind. That part which takes delight in his children, which lifts his voice in the chorus, which clasps his wife to him in the sweet darkness of their bed. “That half of him, the best part, a man sets aside and leaves behind. He banishes from his heart all feelings of tenderness and mercy, all compassion and kindness, all thought or concept of the enemy as a man, a human being like himself. He marches into battle bearing only the second portion of himself, the baser measure, that half which knows slaughter and butchery and turns the blind eye to quarter. He could not fight at all if he did not do this.” The men listened, silent and solemn. Leonidas at that time was fifty-five years old. He had fought in more than two score battles, since he was twenty; wounds as ancient as thirty years stood forth, lurid upon his shoulders and calves, on his neck and across his steel-colored beard. “Then this man returns, alive, out of the slaughter. He hears his name called and comes forward to take his ticket. He reclaims that part of himself which he had earlier set aside. “This is a holy moment. A sacramental moment. A moment in which a man feels the gods as close as his own breath. “What unknowable mercy has spared us this day? What clemency of the divine has turned the enemy’s spear one handbreadth from our throat and driven it fatally into the breast of the beloved comrade at our side? Why are we still here above the earth, we who are no better, no braver, who reverenced heaven no more than these our brothers whom the gods have dispatched to hell? “When a man joins the two pieces of his ticket and sees them weld in union together, he feels that part of him, the part that knows love and mercy and compassion, come flooding back over him. This is what unstrings his knees. “What else can a man feel at that moment than the most grave and profound thanksgiving to the gods who, for reasons unknowable, have spared his life this day? Tomorrow their whim may alter. Next week, next year. But this day the sun still shines upon him, he feels its warmth upon his shoulders, he beholds about him the faces of his comrades whom he loves and he rejoices in their deliverance and his own.” Leonidas paused now, in the center of the space left open for him by the troops. “I have ordered pursuit of the foe ceased. I have commanded an end to the slaughter of these whom today we called our enemies. Let them return to their homes. Let them embrace their wives and children. Let them, like us, weep tears of salvation and burn thank-offerings to the gods. “Let no one of us forget or misapprehend the reason we fought other Greeks here today. Not to conquer or enslave them, our brothers, but to make them allies against a greater enemy. By persuasion, we hoped. By coercion, in the event. But no matter, they are our allies now and we will treat them as such from this moment. “The Persian!

Replaying in my mind the Martha Stewart, Leonidas Young, and Scooter Libby cases, I argued that if we weren’t going to hold retired generals and CIA directors accountable for blatantly lying during investigations, how could we justify jailing thousands of others for doing the same thing? I believed, and still believe, that Petraeus was treated under a double standard based on class. A poor person, an unknown person—say a young black Baptist minister from Richmond—would be charged with a felony and sent to jail.

Memenuhi permintaan seorang kawanku yang menulis surat dari Timur, aku mengunjungi si tua Simon Wheeler yang cerewet, dan menanyakan mengenai kawan dari kawanku, Leonidas W. Smiley, seperti permintaannya padaku, dan aku di sini untuk melampirkan hasilnya. Aku memiliki kecurigaan samar kalau Leonidas W. Smiley hanyalah sebuah mitos belaka dan kawanku tak pernah mengenal orang itu; dan dia beranggapan jika aku menanyakannya pada si tua Wheeler, hal itu akan mengingatkannya pada Jim Smiley yang terkenal, lantas dia akan berupaya keras dan membuatku bosan setengah mati dengan kenangannya tentang orang itu, yang menjengkelkan, berlarut-larut dan sangat menjemukan serta tak ada gunanya bagiku. Jika itu tujuannya maka dia berhasil.

Exod Nu vreau să văd pe nimeni. Îmi e silă De cei care-ar mai răsfoi o filă Din viaţa mea, şi-apoi ar vinde-o-n rate - Mi-e numele de azi - Singurătate. Nu vreau compătimire, nici ovaţii, S-est tout. Atât. Ajunge huiduială De la oricare scofârlie goală, Orice răbdare îşi atinge culmea Se-ncheie socoteala mea cu lumea. Şi-apoi de ce atâta împăcare, Şi-apoi la ce m-aş teme-atât de tare?!

The student, balancing between the deep knowledge of the specialist and the broad curiosity of the generalist, must develop, largely on their own, their capacity to be conscious of past and emerging idioms, to see their own work in the context of developing styles, and – most difficult of all – to identify how their own personal style can co-exist with the restrictions of utility and the conventions of genre.

One of the earliest records of calisthenics training was handed down to us by the historian Herodotus, who recounts that prior to the Battle of Thermopolylae (c.480 BC) the god-king Xerxes sent a party of scouts to look down over the valley at his hopelessly outnumbered Spartan enemies, led by their king, Leonidas. To the amazement of Xerxes, the scouts reported back that the Spartan warriors were busy training their bodies with calisthenics. Xerxes had no idea what to make of this, since it looked as though they were limbering up for battle. The idea was laughable, because beyond the valley lay Xerxes’ Persian army, numbering over one hundred and twenty thousand men. There were only three hundred Spartans. Xerxes sent messages to the Spartans telling them to move or be destroyed. The Spartans refused and during the ensuing battle the tiny Spartan force succeeded in holding Xerxes’ massive army at bay until the other Greek forces coalesced. You might have seen a dramatization of this battle in Zac Snyder’s epic movie 300 (2007).

Replaying in my mind the Martha Stewart, Leonidas Young, and Scooter Libby cases, I argued that if we weren’t going to hold retired generals and CIA directors accountable for blatantly lying during investigations, how could we justify jailing thousands of others for doing the same thing?

Someone once asked the Spartan king Leonidas to identify the supreme warrior virtue from which all others flowed. He replied: "Contempt for death." For us as artists, read "failure." Contempt for failure is our cardinal virtue.

On December 7, somewhere between Mauritius and Madagascar, the Badger spoke the ship Leonidas of Fairhaven. Howes Norris, the sadistic captain who inspired the 1841 mutiny on the Sharon, had earlier commanded the Leonidas. 11. In the 1850s, “Santianna” was a popular call-and-response sea shanty about Mexican general Santa Anna. The Badger's crew apparently

Give them nothing, but take from them everything.

Sister when you make it through a war like me and try to make it through alive, you learn that humans are all the same, there is no religion that is worth following; all you need to do is not get stupid or crazy, make sure you do what is good, and stay away from the bad.

So, this was it. We gave away everything we built, we would leave behind relatives, friends memories and our country of birth, and go to a country we knew only from books and news, all in the hope of building a life better than the one we had in Romania.

You listen to me. If you want to do it, do it alone. You have no right to sacrifice innocent lives. And remember, if you hadn’t already noticed, we are all going through hard times, you are not the only one.

Leonidas Night. King of the pitch. Lord of balls.

they left a rearguard under the other Spartan king, Leonidas, whose allies persuaded him to delay the Persians at the narrow pass of Thermopylae with 300 Spartans – and several thousand Phocians and helots (forgotten in most accounts).

Dropped off on Isla’s porch in a basket with a single blanket and my name and birthday scrawled on a ripped piece of parchment, I was crying in the dead of night when she opened her front door to see an olive-skinned baby with a full head of black hair. It wasn’t even a choice, Isla always said — she would love me as her own until her last breath. If anyone ever asked, Isla told them that my parents were two drunks from her side of the family who couldn’t afford to raise a child. No one ever questioned it, which was the story we had maintained for twenty-four years. When I was brought to the castle, Isla never left my side and held my hand when the king’s adviser, John, explained that the fallen king, Leonidas, willed me to be the heir to his throne. No reason was ever given, and there wasn’t a connection in our bloodlines that anyone could find.

Celestina, please. She can reign over Seolia.’ There was anguish in his words as they tumbled out of his mouth. Celestina shook her head, stepping away from Leonidas. ‘She is the key, Leonidas. Don’t you see?’ Celestina spoke through her sobs. ‘We can control all four kingdoms with her. Rudolf has a nephew. They can marry. He’s a prince.’ Me. Celestina was talking about me. She wanted us to marry and incite a war over the kingdoms. ‘She’s my heir, Celestina. Not Rudolf’s. You have another daughter.’ Leonidas tried to reason with her, but I felt her anger brewing, and she raised her palm toward Leonidas. Something black began to trickle from her fingers, and then pain. I felt so much pain from Raven as her mother crumpled with her still cradled. Leonidas reached for Raven, trying to shush her tears. Mira remained still under the bed, covering her mouth in silent sobs. She had witnessed her mother murdered by Leonidas and saw him steal Raven away.

Golden strands began to escape Celestina’s body and wrap around Raven, pushing into her skin. The golden strands slowly turned gray and then black—thick and inky. Leonidas tried to pull Raven away, but the strands followed her, sinking deep into her chest. She was gasping, screaming, her green eyes widening. Raven had inherited her mother’s magic… and her sorrow. All her darkness, her fury, her need for revenge, lived within Raven. That was why her anger was so loud. Celestina… was a witch. There had always been rumors, but they were spoken about in hushed tones. And I never cared enough to inquire further. The more that had passed since she died, the less people seemed to remember her existence at all. But with Raven, they would.

I forged a few days ahead in Raven’s memories, watching as Leonidas handed the child to another man, begging him to keep her safe. ‘She can’t come to the castle yet,’ he said, kissing her forehead repeatedly. ‘They’ll know it was me. Find someone for her, someone who will take care of her until I can safely move her home.

Hidden deep within the cottage, a little blond boy with blue eyes watched intently and stared at the baby in his mother’s arms. Cade. He had heard everything. He knew Raven was the daughter of Leonidas. Was that why Raven trusted him so much?

I am always inside you, Leonidas. My blood, my body, my mind. And that most certainly means something. Do not forget that. Leo

Man regis, jeigu mes suprasime gyvenimo reliatyvumą, tuomet pradėsime labiau vertinti tą, ką turime. Tada paprasčiausiai daraisi dėkingesnis - ar ponui Dievui, ar motulei Gamtai, ar istorijai, ar apvaizdai... vadinkime kaip norime, bet tu daraisi dėkingas už tą, ką tu turi. Man regis, kad mes turime pradėti šlifuoti savo kasdienybės žmogiškumą... kad tu būtum tiesiog įkvepiantis kitus ir leidžiantis pajusti gyvenimo ir dienos grožį, paprasčiausiai, kitą žmogų.

Hitler specifically chooses Carlyle’s book because it was the eminent Scottish historian who set forth the “Great Man” theory of history, which states that “the history of the world is but a biography of great men.” Leonidas

A t the end of World War II, the Nuremberg war tribunal sentenced the Waffen SS, possibly the finest fighting force the world has seen since Leonidas and his Spartans at Thermopylae, the bravest of the brave, collectively as war criminals.

Someone once asked the Spartan king Leonidas to identify the supreme warrior virtue from which all others flowed. He replied: “Contempt for death.”   For us as artists, read “failure.

To reach the cathedral’s entrance, Kate had to go down a narrow cobblestone street, a bottleneck of restaurants, coffeehouses, and Leonidas chocolate shops, all crammed tightly together and stuck to the side of the church like barnacles.

Every two feet there seemed be another Leonidas chocolate café, the Starbucks of Belgium. The Leonidas cafés were inescapable, so she surrendered and got herself a hot chocolate.

He wondered what Leonidas thought that last morning at Thermopylae,

But that isolated coup was as nothing compared to the body of work sustained over years by George Leonidas Leslie (or Western George, as he was known) and his colleagues. This Ohio immigrant lived a remarkable double life. At one moment he was an independently wealthy man-about-town, known for his impeccable manners, his tailoring, his love of books, and his membership in several excellent clubs. At other moments he headed a highly sophisticated gang of bank robbers whose careful preparations—obtaining architect’s plans of the building under scrutiny, or constructing special burglars’ tools—helped pull off perhaps a hundred jobs like the robbery, in 1869, of the Ocean National Bank at Greenwich and Fulton, which netted them over threequarters of a million dollars. Beginning in 1875, Western George spent three years preparing for his master heist, a knockover of the Manhattan Savings Institution on Bleecker and Broadway, arrangements that included purchasing a duplicate of the Manhattan’s vault in order to ferret out its weak spots.

but if Leonidas Polk had left things entirely up to Daniel Harvey Hill, nothing at all would have been done.

Hij liep ineens een andere route door de velden.

Seja como for, a questão agora considerada mais importante é como não causar pânico nos mercados e enviar os sinais corretos aos investidores. Algumas vezes, morre-se a rir. Outras vezes, o riso afugenta a dor. Vivemos num período em que as nossas palavras enviam uma mensagem ao Santo Mercado. É possível que ele aprecie o nosso humor. Talvez ele veja nele sinais de recuperação e energia.

Xerxes wanted to know why the three hundred Spartans had fought so hard. Why had they sacrificed everything for this King Leonidas? What was it about the king that made him such a great leader? And the Spartan replied. “A king does not abide within his tent while his men bleed and die upon the field. A king does not dine while his men go hungry, nor sleep when they stand at watch upon the wall. A king does not command his men’s loyalty through fear nor purchase it with gold; he earns their love by the sweat of his own back and the pains he endures for their sake. That which comprises the harshest burden, a king lifts first and sets down last. A king does not require service of those he leads but provides it to them…

Leonidas had acquired much wealth for himself,

King Leonidas of Sparta took the charge here.

The corrupt ephors and Leonidas quickly pronounced him guilty of tyranny,

I told you the story of Leonidas and his Spartans the other day. They had mothers, sisters, and sweethearts. If they could have fought a bloodless battle at the polls wouldn’t it have been better—if not so dramatic.” “I—can’t—feel—that way,” said Emily confusedly. She was not old enough to think or say, as she would say ten years later, “The heroes of Thermopylae have been an inspiration to humanity for centuries. What squabble around a ballot-box will ever be that?

Jedan zapis Leonida Šejke: SAZVEŽĐE MALIH PREDMETA Postoje i takvi predmeti, sasvim beznačajni, za koje počinjemo da osećamo bezrazložnu ljubav. Možda ona potiče od oseta ugodnosti koji imamo kada ih držimo u ruci. Navikli smo da ih nosimo po džepovima, a za to su pogodni, jer im veličina ne prelazi više od tri santimetra. Nosimo ih u džepu, slušajući nežno zveckanje, čekajući tu radost da kao minijaturna lavina pokuljaju, poispadaju iz džepova, pomešani s mnoštvom hartijica, koje su uostalom trebale da budu odavno bačene, a nisu jedino zbog naše inercije. Onda, pomešani još sa mrvama, vunastim gromoljicama, slamkama i ostalim đubretom, poispadaju ili mi sami izvrnemo džepove; i tako je sada na stolu "nemoguća gomila". Zatim, počinjemo selekciju, razvrstavanje, izdvajamo, pre svega, hartijice u stranu, a to su bioskopske, tramvajske karte, plave ili ružičaste, cedulje, računi, komadići novina, hartijice srebrnaste, providne, šarene… Sve to zgužvamo i odbacimo bez sentimentalnosti. Onda, iz gomile izdvajamo ono đubre, tako da ostanu samo čvrsti, određeni komadi, da može svakom da se nadene ime, da svaki ima jedan, doduše tihi, ali zato vrlo harmoničan zvuk. Jednom rečju, potrebno je da bude takvih vrsta komadâ, da bih imao želju da ih prebrojavam. Kad je sve gotovo, vraćam celu hrpu natrag u džep; priznajem da to sada ima neki drugi miris, ali ja zaboravljam na sve, mislim o sklopovima saća, paučinâ, mravinjakâ, a ne mislim na poreklo tih beznačajnosti, mada sam počeo nesvesno da se vezujem za njih i nisam verovao da će tako dugo ostati zaglavljeni u mom džepu. Bio sam ravnodušan, bio sam u stanju svakog časa da ih se otarasim, ali sada je prošlo već toliko vremena, na njima se nataložilo više slojeva moga duha, oni su postali deo mene, svi ti komadići, parčići ogledala, gvozdene alke, šrafovi, jedna kaplja od bakelita, i jedna od stakla, toliko blistava da se čini da je u njoj čitav kosmos sadržan, nekoliko drvenih kupastih komada, crvenih i žutih, bez ikakve oznake, nekoliko vrsta puževa, jedan krst, kuka sa nekog katanca, prema kojoj sam osećao izuzetnu ljubav, i, najzad, jedan ključ sa glavom trolista. Svi ovi mali predmeti predstavljaju jedno blistavo sazvežđe, koje lebdi na nebu u neposrednoj blizini, tako da lako rukom mogu da dohvatim bilo koji komadić, uprkos njegove silne vibracije, koja se opaža kao intenzivno zujanje pčela, ako se sazvežđe zatvori u kutiju, pa onda probuši otvor za osluškivanje, i koje nama prestaje kad se kutija otvori, mada vibracije i dalje traju. Možda će jednog dana sve to biti upotrebljeno za ukras nekoj varvarskoj nevesti, ali za sada ja ih držim u rukama, kao što bi se držala gomilica šljunka – razbacujem ga po podu, pa ga opet skupljam; onog koji se otkotrlja negde pod orman ne tražim više, a neke namerno spustim u slivnik i tako, komad po komad, polako, moja se kolekcija smanjuje, mada uvek postoji mogućnost da se nešto tako pronađe, bilo u sobi, bilo na ulici ili na velikim peščanim plažama; ali sve to ne može da traje u beskonačnost, moramo se, voljno ili nevoljno, uvek ograničiti na određen broj, pa tako, kad sve nestane, dakle, kad se izgubi, ja ne mogu zbog toga osetiti nikakav gubitak, jer to je bila sasvim bezrazložna ljubav. Ali bilo gde da zapadnu, to verujem, bilo gde da se izgube, otkotrljaju, pošto nose jedan zajednički otisak, recimo otisak moji prstiju ili, kao što već rekoh, otisak moga duha, moraće jednoga dana, možda posle mnogo vekova, da se opet nađu na okupu, posle mnogih kruženja, jer svemir je višestruko zakrivljen, da se susretnu. I ne samo to, možda će da se upišu jedan u drugi i tako sastave jedno lice, davno nestalo, davno zaboravljeno, da sastave moje sopstveno lice, tako da se sastavci, spone i ne opažaju, tako da to bude jedno lice, celo i bez ikakvih sumnji, sasvim potpuno.

Leonidas, including decapitation on Xerxes’s express orders,

When Leonidas was killed at Thermopylae, Mardonius and Xerxes had him decapitated and his head stuck on a pole.

What do we know of Leonidas? The answer, sadly, is remarkably little

King Leonidas decided to take only three hundred men—the finest soldiers in all of Sparta.

I have never advocated war except as means of peace, so seek peace, but prepare for war. Because war... War never changes. War is like winter and winter is coming. Coming like a mysterious adventurer. I used to be an adventurer until I took an arrow to the knee. A knee that will not bend, like Leonidas at Thermopylae.

░▒▓█ μολὼν λαβέ █▓▒░

Patrick Leonidas Wayne! you will explain yourself right now, or I will hand your ass to you on a silver platter like John the Baptist had his served up. Am I clear?

Traveler, do not drink the warm water from this pool, all muddy from the quick mountain brook and the intruding sheep. Go a little further up the hill where the heifers are grazing, and there by a shepherd's pine you will find bubbling up through the porous rock a spring colder than northern snow.

The season for sailing. Already the chattering swallow returns with the slender west wind. Meadows bloom, and the boiling waves of the sea, whipped by gales, are smooth and silent. Come then, sailor, haul in the anchors and loosen the hawsers, and sail with all the canvas flying. It is Priapos, god of the harbor, who warns you now: set out from this port for foreign cargoes.

our conclusions when we survived this? What agreements and promises with ourselves did we make as we left this period behind? Did we experience our parents responding to our developmental needs as growing children? How did they respond? Were our emotions allowed, or were only certain emotions (socially acceptable) allowed, or were emotions overlooked and denied? What communication patterns about emotions do we carry and how are these patterns present in our communication with

Vi ste zapovednici, vaši ljudi će u vas gledati i činiti kako vi činite. Nek se niko od vas ne drži sam za sebe ili se bavi sa sabraćom starešinama, već budite po ceo dan među svojim borcima. Neka vas viđaju, i nek vas viđaju neustrašive. Gde god ima kakav posao da se obavi, prvi ga se prihvatite; ljudi će vas slediti. Neki su do vas, kako sam video, podigli šatore. Porušite ih. Spavaćemo kako ja spavam, na otvorenom. Nek vam ljudi stalno udu uposleni. Ako nema nikakvog posla, izmislite ga, jer kad vojska ima vremena za priču,priče se na strah peokreću. Delanje, s druge strane, stvara prohtev za još delanja. -kralj Leonida