Courage (n.) is wisdom about what is and is not to be feared.
Courage (n.) is impossible for one who believes in a Hades full of terrors, so the poets must praise the afterlife instead.
Courage (n.) would have to be denied, if it were knowledge, to every lion and boar — or else the boar knows what few men understand.
Courage (n.) can also run: at Plataea the Spartans fled the wicker shields, then turned like cavalry when the Persian ranks broke, and won.
Courage (n.) is needed in argument too: hold your ground in the search, so that courage itself won't laugh at you for hunting it like a coward.
Courage (n.) ignores the risk of death and asks one question only: is what I am doing right or wrong, a good man's act or a bad one's?
Courage (n.) is not only for battle: there are the brave at sea, in sickness, in poverty and politics — and the clever fighters of desire and pleasure.
Courage (n.) can be had without being understood: brave Laches did not know what bravery is, and the questioning turns the unaware into the aware.
Courage (n.) is a flow against the flow — but only against the current running contrary to justice; resist every current and it would earn no praise at all.
Courage (n.) is a kind of preservation: holding fast, through pains, pleasures, desires, and fears, the law-taught belief about what is truly to be feared.
Courage (n.) in all men except philosophers is made of fear: the brave face death for fear of greater evils, and so are brave through cowardice.
Courage (n.) is a colorfast dye: education prepares the soul like white wool so the law sinks in and no detergent — pleasure, pain, fear, desire — can wash it out.
Courage (n.) and death can live in one act: rescuing a friend in battle is admirable because it is brave and bad because it is fatal — on two different counts.