Why did I write about Sparta and Thermopylae? I cite the Dienekes anecdote from Herodotus: that when the Spartans first occupied the pass but had not yet seen the Persians, a native of the place came dashing in; he had seen the enemy and was bug-eyed in terror at their numbers, reporting that the Persian archers were so many that when they fired their volleys, the mass of arrows actually blocked out the sun.

Dienekes, however, quite undaunted by this prospect, remarked with a laugh, "Good. Then we'll have our battle in the shade."

I make a point about Spartan wit. It's warrior humor. Its purpose is to dispel fear. Dienekes, Herodotus tells us, was famous for other laconic quips. All the Spartans were. This was no accident. Wit was prized in Sparta. (The word laconic itself comes from Sparta's province, Laconia.) Boys were schooled from childhood to break fear's spell with a smart remark.

I cite two more famous lines from Thermopylae. Leonidas, when the Persian king Xerxes demanded that the defenders lay down their arms, replied, "Molon labe." Come and take them. On the final morning the Spartan king instructed his troops:

"Now eat a good breakfast, men. For we'll all be sharing dinner in hell."

I call the audience's attention to two things about these remarks. First, they don't attempt to deny reality. They don't say No, we're not going to die. Second, they make no mention of glory or patriotism. There's great wisdom in this. These seemingly off-hand quips are the product of a profound warrior philosophy.

There's a type of person today, I continue, called a terrorist. A suicide bomber. One might say, comparing him to an ancient Spartan, that the two are similar. Both know they're going to die and both advance to their end head-on. But no distinction could be more fallacious. The suicide bomber (forget his civilian targets or the duplicity of his approach) works himself into a state, either of hope for paradise or of numb denial; he renders himself inhuman in order to perform his deed. The Spartans and Thespians at Thermopylae were not like that. They were rational men, in full possession of their faculties. They were not fanatics. They loved their families; they wanted to live. They did not worship death, but understood what sacrifice the hour called for. And they kept their wry, laconic wit right up to the end.