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“Give them nothing, but take from them everything.”
― Frank Miller, 300

“His helmet was stifling, it narrowed his vision. And he must see far. His shield was heavy. It threw him off balance. And his target is far away.”
― Frank Miller

“Remember us,
Should any free soul come across this place,
In all the countless centuries yet to be,
May our voices whisper to you from the ageless stones,
Go tell the Spartans, passerby:
That here by Spartan law, we lie.”
― Frank Miller, 300

“Go now, run along and tell your Xerxes that he faces free men here, not slaves”
― Frank Miller, 300

“Hydarnes: When we attack today, our arrows will blot out the sun!
Leonidas: Good; then we will fight in the shade.”
― Frank Miller, 300

“Xerxes: It isn't wise to stand against me, Leonidas. Imagine what horrible fate awaits my enemies when I would gladly kill any of my own men for victory.
King Leonidas: And I would die for any one of mine.”
― Frank Miller

“Return with the shield or on it”
― Frank Miller, 300

“O Stranger, send the news home to the people of Sparta that here we
Are laid to rest: the commands they gave us have been obeyed.

� ξεῖ�', ἀγγέλλειν Λακεδαιμονίοις ὅτ� τῇδ�
κείμεθα, τοῖ� κείνων ῥήμασ� πειθόμενοι.

[Epitaph of the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae]”
― Simonides

“lets dine in hell”
― leonides

“The declining age of learning and of mankind is marked, however, by the rise and rapid progress of the new Platonists. The school of Alexandria silenced those of Athens; and the ancient sects enrolled themselves under the banners of the more fashionable teachers, who recommended their system by the novelty of their method and the austerity of their manners. Several of these mastersâ€�Ammonius, Plotinus, Amelius, and Porphyry—were men of profound thought and intense application; but, by mistaking the true object of philosophy, their labors contributed much less to improve than to corrupt human understanding. The knowledge that is suited to our situation and powers, the whole compass of moral, natural and mathematical science, was neglected by the new Platonists; whilst they exhausted their strength in the verbal disputes of metaphysics, attempted to explore the secrets of the invisible world, and studied to reconcile Aristotle with Plato, on subjects of which both of these philosophers were as ignorant as the rest of mankind. Consuming their reason in these deep but unsubstantial meditations, their minds were exposed to illusions of fancy. They flattered themselves that they possessed the secret of disengaging the soul from its corporeal prison, claimed a familiar intercourse withe dæmons and spirits; and, by a very singular revolution, converted the study of philosophy into that of magic. The ancient sages had derided the popular superstition; after disguising its extravagance by the this pretense of allegory, the disciples of Plotinus and Porphyry becomes its most zealous defenders. As they agreed with the Christians in a few mysterious points of faith, they attacked the remainder of their theological system with all the fury of civil war. The new Platonists would scarcely deserve a place in the history of science, but in that of the church the mention of them will very frequently occur.”
― Edward Gibbon, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire Volume I

“Worse than knowing I needed out, I didn't know what I needed back into. Even when I could feel there was something else beyond the edges of any color in the street or window where no one waited even to just totally ignore me, I couldn't recognize it enough to know how to want it harder. Along each street it was as if I were waiting for some hole to swallow my face. Each moment it didn't made the going into the next step that much less worth doing. This is what life had always felt like. In my mind, expecting the absence of something or someone there before me made the presence in its place feel like the punch line to a routine no one was performing. And where I couldn't find a way to laugh, I became my own stand-in, over and over, like painting white over a window from the inside.”
― Blake Butler, Three Hundred Million