A Man Is At His

He Sees Himself In His Lover As If In A Mirror, Not Knowing Whom He Sees, And When They Are Together, He Too Is Released From Pain, And When Apart, He Longs As He Himself Is Longed For; For Reflected In His Heart Is Love's Image, Which Is Love's Answer. But He Calls It, And Believes It, Not Love But Friendship.

It Is Better To Believe In Men Too Rashly, And Regret, Than Believe Too Meanly. Men Could Be More Than They Are, If They Would Try For It. He Has Shown Them That.

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

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.

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.