“You ought to use a little of that siren song on Alan, my pearl. The boy needs to loosen his cravat.”
“Every man needs his Siren To check his courage and strength When he hears her song In his travels through the unknown.”
“Come on, my little siren. Come to me.”
“Socrates and Phaedrus, like Odysseus, must sail by the Sirens without being enchanted: instead of listening to their voices, they will outdo them with their own logos. . . . Plato's Odysseus does not even let the song of the Sirens enter him but deafens it with his own rational discourse. Philosophy is itself a Sirens' song, the antidote against the dispersion and drowning of the soul into the body, that is, against the ultimate wandering.”
“Her sound is a siren's song, calling me to the rocks.”
“I need a boy who thinks with his big head, not his little one. Since they do not exist, I have fashioned my own.”