The Song of Achilles

by Madeline Miller

perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.

Success in such a war as this comes only through men sewn to a single purpose, funneled to a single spear thrust rather than a thousand needle-pricks. You lead the Phthians, and I the Ithacans, but there must be someone who uses us each to our abilities”—he tipped a gracious hand towards Achilles —“however great they may be.”

“He is a weapon, a killer. Do not forget it. You can use a spear as a walking stick, but that will not change its nature.”

“There are too many of them,” he said. “It’s simpler if they just remember me.”

Chiron had said once that nations were the most foolish of mortal inventions. “No man is worth more than another, wherever he is from.”