“With surprising objectivity, Homer shows us the limits of force in the very apotheosis of the force-hero. Through cruelty force confesses its powerlessness to achieve omnipotence. When Achilles falls upon Lycaon, shouting “death to all,” and makes fun of the child who is pleading with him, he lays bare the eternal resentment felt by the will to power when something gets in the way of its indefinite expansion. We see weakness dawning at the very height of force. Unable to admit that total destruction is impossible, the conqueror can only reply to the mute defiance of his defenseless adversary with an ever-growing violence. Achilles will never get the best of the thing he kills: Lycaon’s youth will rise again and Priam’s wisdom and Ilion’s beauty. And, yet, the royal ease of Achilles, when he does not reach the limits of his power, remains a true image of grandeur. Achilles’ heroism is not so breathtaking as his discontent, his marvelous ingratitude. The sport of war, the joys of pillage, the luxury of rage, “when it swells in a human breast, sweeter than honey on a human tongue,” the glitter of empty triumphs and mad enterprises—all these things are Achilles. Without Achilles, men would have peace; without Achilles, they would sleep on, frozen with boredom, till the planet itself grew cold.”