Over two thousand years ago, the residents of a great city had their fundamental beliefs profoundly challenged. A single contemplative mind devoted to spreading his message through carefully meditated words that reflected his intensely calm and divinely composed manner. By nature, the revolutionary ideas that inspired some, unnerved others. So although his devoted students took every opportunity to learn from him, more powerful forces were working to kill him.
They soon succeeding in assuring the man’s death. The man never truly protests his fate but accepts it. Gently welcomes it. The man uses his last words to teach. Unfortunately, this man never scribed any of his ideas and thoughts. Nothing. He was busy thinking about how to be an ideal human being. How to reevaluate the things we thought we knew. Despite this, he left fuck all. LUCKILY, a few of his disciples had some incredible stories to tell about him.
Now hopefully, through some written trickery, I’ve led you to believe I’m talking about a certain son of God. But what you just read is also the extensive biography of Socrates, the man considered the founder of Western philosophy.