Men in time of war can be unpredictable.
Barbarians are never to be trusted. Conquerors have no word, and the conquered have no hope.
A king must set himself apart from others by his deeds, not his dress.
Greek beauty is never a trivial matter, especially to a Greek.
It’s a wonder how who rules Greece and Persia lives so simply when all those around him lived so well.
He’d spent his entire life fighting for people to understand his dreams, his visions.
All my life I’ve been told I need to marry. My generals begged me to marry before I even set foot in Persia. My mother marched enough women in front of me to build an army. Every satrap, king, and prince I’ve ever met has paraded sisters, wives, and daughters before me for marriage. I want to choose my wife. For once, I want to select a woman, not because she’s goof for the army or my empire, or for Macedon, but because she’s good for me. Can you understand that?
That woman charges great payment for her nine months’ rent.
Short-lived is a king who arrests his subjects for telling the truth.
Men live battle because it’s a time to prove themselves, to show the gods their worth as a hero among men like the great Achilles.
One can never describe battle; you can only experience it.
They fight constantly when in the same room. They only stop when I make them. I fear the day I’m not around to control them. They will destroy each other.
It is better to live with courage and die leaving an everlasting fame.
A battle is easier to plan than the seduction of a woman.
Only a man you love could make you feel so miserable.
A wound by the sword is much easier to bear than a wound from gossip.
I don’t love as a husband, only as a king and a general. Armies don’t love you until you prove yourself. General’s don’t love you until you lead them in victory. And the people, they will never love you until they can trust you are a good and wise ruler. You have to win love, earn it through deeds. I hope that will happen to us. Once we prove ourselves, endure a few battles, and learn to trust, we will find love.
Gossip about my relationship with the king has haunted me for years, but only Alexander and I know the truth.
I want him to stop obsessing about a future he can’t control and start living a life he can. You have to be a man first before you can be a legend.
Gossip can work both ways, my lady. It can tear a person down or build them up.
– You have already surpassed what any other man has ever done, Alexander. Why go on?
– To make sure that no man can repeat what I have done. So there can be no more Alexanders.
Women are never conquered, my king. They’re simply awed by the gift of love.
The things one does under the influence of wine can seldom be explained.
Angering a lion will only make him eager to draw blood.
I can’t change my stars, but I have learned to live with them.
A king without luck, would not remain a king for long.
I love you, Roxana, I always have, and I would do anything for you, but don’t ask me to change my destiny. I’m a warrior, and I can only be happy when there are world to conquer. Take that away from me, and I will be lost. Perhaps when I’m too old to lift my sword, then I can remain in a palace. Maybe this one. And we can spend our old age together, enjoying our grandchildren. But until then, I must plan, I must fight, and I must go. I would rather live a short life, filled with greatness, than a long and mediocre one.
Alexander is dead, and the world will never be the same. Now we must deal with the aftermath. “Achilles absent is Achilles still.”
I’m a general, and at times I have to see and do things that are not well liked but are necessary.
Alexander grew up watching the triades of my mother, the sexual and alcoholic escapades of my father, and it affected him. To lose control was to become like my parents.
These are the war games men play when power is up for grabs. Without Alexander to hold them together, yesterday’s friends have become tomorrow’s enemies.
The corridor opened up into a hypostyle hall with smooth white columns on each side. Between the columns were paintings of her husband, tile-mosaics of his feats, tapestries of his fighting prowess, and a few full body statues. He was on the floors, ceilings, and over a few arched doorways. Some portrayed him as a boy- others as a soldier. A few even had him gazing up to the heavens, his head tilted slightly to the left, looking like a god. But none of the impressions elicited the swell of emotion she’d expected when walking through his home. They were not her Alexander. Not the man she loved. They were lifeless recreations and lacked the fire he’d exuded.
The perils of a battle are nothing compared to the forbidden arms of a beautiful woman.
Men will call you a bitch or harpy when you fight to protect your son, but they will never understand your devotion.
The only way to avoid being cast aside is to make yourself indispensable to those who wiled power.
Soldiers prefer their leaders to be compassionate.
We are the life we lived, not the ending- that’s what I taught my son.