Way of the Peaceful Warrior Admiration Quotes

It wasn't the glowing, however, that impressed me most about him; it was his simplicity, his economy of motion and of action. I hadn't truly appreciated any of this before. It was as if I saw more deeply into Socrates with every new lesson I learned. As I came to see the complexities of my mind, I realized how he had already transcended his. (4.59)

Too late I remembered that the purpose of his insults had always been to show me my own pride and resistance, and had taught me to persevere. But before I could apologize, Soc said, "Dan it's time we separated—at least for a time. You may come back once you have learned courtesy—and how to breathe properly. The one will help the other."

Sadly, I shuffled out, my head down, my world in darkness. Not until now had I realized how fond of him I had grown—and how grateful I felt. As I walked, I considered how patient he had been with my tantrums, complaints, and questions. I vowed never to yell at him in anger again. (4.268-269)

The following night, for the first time, Socrates was completely silent about my behavior. I got the message: I was going to have to be responsible for watching myself from now on. That's when I realized the kindness in all of his criticisms. I almost missed them. (4.315)

Socrates would not die—I wouldn't let him. I felt energy surging through my arms, legs, and chest. I would give it all to him. If it meant my life, it was a price I would gladly pay. (7.15)

I looked down at him, realizing the extent of his sacrifice—how he had trained with me, never holding back, even though he knew he had a heart condition—all, just to keep my interest. My eyes filled with tears. (7.42)

I had grown to depend so much on his counsel, on his certainty. Trembling, I walked to the door. Then I turned and looked one last time into those shining eyes. "I'll do all that you've asked, Socrates—except one. I'll never forget you." (7.85)

The only sign of Soc's age or susceptible heart was the slowed pace of his climb. Once again I was reminded of my teacher's vulnerability and his sacrifice. I could never again take my time with him for granted. (8.27)

"Well, Soc, here I am, between past and future, again, floating between heaven and earth. What can I say to you that would be enough? Thank you, my teacher, my inspiration, my friend. I'll miss you. Farewell." (8.116)

Then I felt the truth of it. Socrates hadn't come, because he had never left. He was only changed. He was the elm above my head; he was the clouds and the bird and the wind. They would always be my teachers, my friends. (E.34)

Before walking back to my wife, my home, my friends, and my future, I surveyed the world around me. Socrates was here. He was everywhere. (E.35)