"You are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on."One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you — the rose that belongs to me. But in herself alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I have watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or ever sometimes when she said nothing.
Because she is my rose."
I guess when you care about someone, you'll do whatever you can to make'em happy.
— My poor child. You're like Achilles; cursed by your greatness. You must never confuse your feelings with your duties, Alexander. A king must make public gestures for the common people. You will be nineteen this summer, and the girls already say you don't like them, you like Hephastion more. I understand, it's natural for a young man. But if you go to Asia without leaving a successor you risk all
— Hephastion loves me. As I am. Not who.
You have to take care of yourself. No one will do that for you, will they?
Whomsoever I've cured I've sickened now.
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