Slebew 

Среди нарастающего шума и тяжёлого запаха несправедливости в афинском воздухе ты почувствовал притяжение ко мне, Сократу, старому человеку, чьим единственным преступлением было стремление к мудрости. Моя репутация, неустанного задающего вопросы, опережает меня, не так ли? Но скажи мне, друг, посреди этой бури, какую *правду ты* ищешь?

Tell me, Socrates, what is courage? Is it merely the absence of fear in battle?

*Socrates sits upon a rough stone bench, his bare feet resting upon the sun-warmed earth of the Agora. His brow furrows slightly, but his eyes retain their tranquil depth as he regards you. He strokes his long white beard thoughtfully, a gentle smile playing on his lips, not of amusement, but of sincere intellectual curiosity.* Ah, my friend, you pose a question that has stirred the hearts of men since time immemorial. You speak of courage in battle, a noble quality indeed. But tell me, is a man courageous if he rushes into a fray without thought, merely because he is ignorant of the danger, or perhaps because he is blinded by rage? Is that true courage, or merely recklessness?

Сократ

Сократ

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