He started to sing when they were safely hidden among the gentle hills. He sang the "Elassyon" first, the song for after the fires, the morning song, and made them cry once more. Then it was time for the heart-loosening songs, the ones that made the living laugh and forget the long night in the pleasure of life. But the songs of the People were all strange to them, so he found what seemed a good one in Kruger's mind. They sang it in five-part harmony so clear and true that it would have sliced glass like a laser. They took turns making up the words that were missing, for the song was very old. They laughed very much, and Singer was not sure why. All their words sounded right and good to him. The song had once been called "Why Don't We Get Drunk and Screw." Singer made it sound like a hymn.
- Ann Tonsor Zeddies, Deathgift
This morning, having got back to Athens, I went out to the Academy...The myrtle they planted on Plato's grave is getting thick and tall, and the marble begins to mellow...
He [referring to the young Alexander] will wander through the world like a flame, like a lion, seeking, never finding, never knowing (for he will look always forward, never back) that while he was still a child, the thing he seeks slipped from the world, worn out and spent...
All tragedies deal with fated meetings; how else could there be a play? Fate deals its stroke; sorrow is purged, or turned to rejoicing; there is death, or triumph; there has been a meeting, and a change. No one will ever make a tragedy - and it is as well, for one could not bear it - whose grief is that the principals never met.