"I know what a brave man you are; there is no need to tell me. i know that if all the best of our captains were chosen now to go on an ambush, even then no one would find any fault with your courage. Nothing can show so convincingly what a man is made of: who is a coward and who is brave. The coward’s face changes colours and goes dead white, he can’t sit still, but he fidgets, and as he squats, he keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and his heart pounds loudly against his ribs, and his teeth chatter as he imagines how death will seize him; but the brave man’s body is calm, and he doesn’t feel any great fear as he settles into the ambush, but he longs to go into action as soon as he can. And if you were hit by an arrow or stabbed in battle, it would never be from behind, in your nape or back; the weapon would seek you out in your chest or belly as you sought the Trojans’ embrace ahead of your soldiers."